


Femslash February 2015 Challenge

by WelshCakes68



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Arguing, Artist and Muse, Artists, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Being Lost, Blind Date, Busking, Celebrity Crush, Childhood Friends, Confessions, Crushes, Cute Kids, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, Discussed Sexual Content, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/F, Family History, Family Secrets, Femslash February, First Time, Food Porn, Free Stuff, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Holidays, Homophobic Society, Infidelity, Language Barrier, Letters, Lies, Massage, Mistaken Identity, Modern Era, Music, Painplay, Past Love, Past Relationship(s), Photography, Puppies, Quidditch, Refugees, Rivals, Rivals to Lovers, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Snow, Snowmen, Star-crossed, Sunburn, Supernatural Elements, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, True Love, University, Voice Kink, War Era, Weddings, Wildlings - Freeform, Wolves, Workplace, fake married, family ties, inner turmoil, lying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:24:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 37,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelshCakes68/pseuds/WelshCakes68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts for Femslash February 2015 by <em>roseroadkingsroad</em>.</p><p>[Ratings Vary and Displayed in Each Chapter Summary]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Neighbours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 8. neighbors
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 days, 28 prompts by roseroadkingsroad over on Tumblr for Femslash February.
> 
> This will certainly be a challenge for me. I only saw the prompt list 3 hours ago so the fact that I managed to get something together that I'm fairly happy with in that time is a major win for me.
> 
> That being said, I still hope you enjoy.
> 
> *WC68*

Sansa huffed through her annoyance as the music that had been playing for the last couple of hours continued to blare, reverberating heavily through the walls. Accompanying the heavy bass was the sounds of drunken chanting, laughter and cheering along with the heavy, inebriated footfalls of those coming and going into the flat next door and passing her own.

She valiantly continued with her attempt at reading the new book that Jon had recommended to her when there was a series of eager knocks on her door. Sansa closed her eyes in frustration, thinking that she was going to flay the next idiot who knocked on her door only to run away before she got there to answer it. Sansa kicked the blanket off of her legs and got up from the sofa to make another cup of tea when the knock repeated itself, more insistent this time.

“I swear to the Gods!” Sansa fumed as she pivoted, heading quickly towards the door before swinging it open angrily, ready to cuss out the moron who thought this immature behaviour humorous at midnight.

The door opened to reveal none other than Margaery Tyrell leaning casually against the doorframe, dressed smart-casual for her own house party in a fitted white blouse, black waistcoat, functionless, designer, hiking boots, thigh high black socks and black shorts so minuscule that Sansa was certain that, if Margaery were to turn around, she would be able to see the curve of where her rump began.

“Hello, Sweet Sansa. I'm sorry for disturbing you so late-” Margaery began but was interrupted by a loud bang next door, causing a number of Sansa’s books to tumble from their shelf before a raucous roar of approval boomed from Margaery's flat in response. Margaery looked mortified so Sansa pushed on bravely.

“It's okay. I was…awake. Did you need something?” Sansa asked politely.

Margaery hesitated, no doubt still distracted by the mess of books that was inevitably behind Sansa. “My…my genius brother has bought enough alcohol to keep a Lannister family reunion going but didn't think to buy any ice. I was wondering if you had any that you could lend to a neighbour in need?” Margaery asked charmingly, looking up at Sansa through her lashes in a practiced move that Sansa was certain had been perfected and utilised for many years to a devastating effect.

Sansa gawped for a moment, as always, taken with the Southerners beauty. “Of course. Do come in, Margaery.”

“Thank you.” Margaery thanked politely, following Sansa into the flat.

Sansa walked over to her freezer and pulled out a large bag of ice, taking a moment to helpfully break the pieces up against the kitchen counter before turning to hand the bag to Margaery. When she approached Margaery she realised that while her back had been turned the brunette had picked up her fallen books, returning them to the shelf and was now avidly studying the books, pictures and ornaments that were also there, her amber eyes flitting back-and-forth at an alarming velocity. “You have good taste.” Margaery smiled, indicating her collection.

 _‘You have no idea.’_ Sansa thought with an internal sigh. “Thank you.” Sansa smiled.

They looked at each other for a long moment, their stare heated and the air tense. Margaery hesitated, licking her lips and looking as though she was struggling to pick the right words before she shook her head slightly, expression morphing back to its usual, confident smirk.

“Well, I won't keep you any longer. Thank you, Wolf Girl.” Margaery drawled, accepting the bag of ice before they both made their way back to the door. They dawdled slightly by the door again, Sansa struggling to think of something to say when suddenly Margaery was jumping into her personal space to avoid a stampeding duo, running back into the party. Margaery stepped back quickly, looking somewhat embarrassed; Sansa thought she may have even have spotted a slight flush to the other woman's cheeks. “Sorry. And I'm sorry about all the raucous too.”

“It's really fine.” Sansa smiled politely.

“Really?” Margaery smirked, her face taking on a teasing expression now. “Because you looked about ready to kill someone when you first answered the door.”

Sansa flushed, embarrassed about her earlier ire. “No, no. I'm sorry, that wasn't the party, per se. It was the ‘Knock-Knock Ginger’ that was annoying me.”

Margaery breathed out a short laugh before biting a lip to keep in any more that tried to escape. “I'm sorry, ‘What-What Who’?” She asked, clearly amused.

“‘Knock-Knock Ginger’.” Sansa replied warily, feeling as though she was stepping into a trap.

“Hmmmmm. And what is that exactly?” Margaery queried, tilting her head and folding her arms, expression expectant.

“You know, when you knock on someone's door and then run away before they can answer.” Sansa explained, desperately fighting the heat creeping up her neck.

“Oh!” Margaery smiled with understanding. “I see. We call it ‘Cherry Picking’ down South.” Margaery explained with a fond smile.

“Oh. Sorry.” Sansa finished lamely, not certain why she was apologising.

“No, no! I'm sorry. I hope it didn't sound like I was making fun. You’re just so Northern! I love it!” Margaery enthused, biting her lip again with a smirk, the combination of which should be considered murder for all that it completely killed Sansa’s willpower to resist her.

“Thanks.” Sansa replied, unable to look away from Margaery now, feeling herself falling even further.

“I didn’t realise how ‘Gingerist’ people are in the North.” Margaery teased, smiling a wide, genuine smile now which Sansa felt even more powerless against.

“That's why I live here now.” Sansa joked, loving the open and free laugh that the comment had won from Margaery.

Margaery kept her eye contact, smiling beautifully before her face creased angrily, making Sansa blanch. “Wait, people have been knocking your door and running away?” Margaery demanded, disgust clear on her face. Sansa nodded, not feeling particularly comfortable ‘tattling’ to Margaery, who looked even more annoyed now than Sansa had been. “Eurgh! I'm so sorry! Loras has some truly stupid friends. Sometimes I think he has no taste at all.” Margaery confided, leaning in slightly with a conspiratorial tone.

“Hey!” An offended squawk sounded next to them. Sansa leaned out of her doorway and spotted Loras’ boyfriend Renly, arms filled with various bags of ice that Sansa guessed he had sequestered from other neighbours.

“Present company excluded, Renly.” Margaery appeased demurely.

“I should think so!” Renly huffed before smiling at Sansa in hello then pushing his way into their flat.

A long moment past, Sansa undecided on whether she should start talking so Margaery would stay or remain silent so she would go. “Well, I better be going.” Margaery announced unenthusiastically, readjusting the bag distractedly.

“Okay. Bye then.” Sansa replied, sounding somewhat disappointed to her own ears.

Margaery began to walk away so Sansa started to slowly, close the door. “Just one thing!” Margaery’s voice called out, reappearing outside of her door again, causing Sansa to open it fully once more. “You did…you did get my invitation, didn't you?” Margaery asked, sounding uncertain. “It's just… I knocked on your door the other day but you weren't here so I slipped a note under your door but then when you didn't come I figured you had plans but then I knocked for ice and you were here…” Margaery rambled off quickly, looking like she was berating herself for saying so much.

“Oh, yeah.” Sansa answered, trying to the think of a believable excuse considering she had been found, sat in at midnight on a Saturday night with a book, like a loser, instead of living the life of a normal twenty-something. “I had plans earlier in the evening but I didn't think the party would still be going on by the time I got back.” Sansa lied, feeling terrible about it, even more so when Margaery's face lit up like the sun.

“Oh! Well, why didn't you say? You can come over for a drink now. I owe you one for the ice anyway.” Margaery offered eagerly.

“Oh! That's not necessary.” Sansa waved off weakly.

“I didn't ask if it was necessary; I asked if you'd have a drink with me.” Margaery rebutted with a smirk, looking like she would not be deterred in the slightest. “Actually, I didn't ask at all.” Margaery corrected confidently.

Sansa tried one more time. “I look like a complete mess-” Sansa argued, gesturing down at her ripped skinny jeans and one of Robb’s old sports sweatshirts.

Margaery’s hand came out at that, wrapping around her own, hers icy to the touch from holding the frozen bag for so long though Sansa knew that _that_ wasn't the reason for her sudden shiver. “You look…you look beautiful.” Margaery argued with the most open and genuine expression that Sansa had ever seen her wear. “Please, Sansa Stark? Join me for just one drink.” She cajoled softly, her voice sounding like a siren’s song.

Sansa debated with herself, all of the reasons for why she had been resisting just this eventuality from happening flying through her head at lightning speeds before suddenly coming to a grinding halt when Margaery gently rubbed a thumb over Sansa’s hand, gifting her with a small, pleading smile.

“Okay.” Sansa surrendered, stepping out of the flat, hand still linked with Margaery’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically the prompt was 'neighbors' but I'm British so 'Neighbours' it was...
> 
> *WC68*


	2. Sharing Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 1. sharing clothes
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe that 'sharing' is a two-way street so will show both lending and borrowing.
> 
> *WC68*

“Babe!” Sansa’s voice called out insistently to Margaery before the front door even closed behind her.

Margaery looked up from where she was sat on the sofa, reading a magazine, taking off her glasses before responding. “I’m in here!” Margaery called out. Sansa came barrelling into the living room, a slightly manic look on her face though Margaery was well-practiced in distinguishing between genuine, world-changing disaster and Sansa’s version of tragedy. “What’s wrong?” Margaery asked calmly.

“Do you still have that skirt? That burgundy one that you wore to Megga’s last Name Day?” Sansa asked, dropping her bags of shopping onto the chair and throwing off her coat in a rush, panting like she’d run the whole way back from shopping.

“Yeah-”

“Good! I need it!” She announced before running from the room, presumably up to their bedroom which was confirmed seconds later when Margaery heard the bounding steps that Sansa took up the stairs.

Margaery rolled her eyes and followed her girlfriend up to their bedroom at a more sedate pace. The twenty seconds that it had taken Margaery to follow and Sansa had emptied out half of their clothes onto the bed in search of the skirt. “Gods be good, Sansa!” Margaery swore, eyes wide as she took in the warzone that had previously been their bedroom.

“Sorry, sorry.” Sansa placated without slowing down at all. “I just need it…”

“Other wardrobe.” Margaery assisted, nodding to the piece of furniture on the opposite side of the room. “Should be in the middle somewhere.”

Sansa smiled her thanks before diving into the other wardrobe, a triumphant hoot coming from her seconds later. “A-ha!” She held it up in the air for a moment before throwing it on the bed, hands going straight to the button and zip on her jeans.

“What is the big emergency, anyway?” Margaery asked, trying to sound bored but was thoroughly consumed with the sight of her girlfriend shimmying the jeans down her hips and over her bum, bending over to pull them off.

“I bought a pair of shoes for the hen party tonight, thinking I could wear this with it but I don’t know if it will fit.” Sansa explained, zipping up the skirt and running over to stand in front of the full length mirror, spinning to inspect herself in the skirt. “What do you think?” Sansa asked distractedly, smoothing the material over her thighs.

Margaery considered her considerably taller girlfriend in a skirt that was pushing the boundaries of decency on her. “Yeah…yeah, it’s…good skirt.” Margaery blabbered out, completely hypnotised by the expanse of creamy thigh on show.

“Really? It’s not too short?” Sansa asked, doubtful.

“No.” Margaery enthused, voice breaking. “If anything, I think it could be shorter.” Margaery teased which made Sansa spin around and mock glare at her. “Roll it up a bit.” Margaery encouraged, lecherous grin now in place.

Sansa rolled her eyes but played along, rolling the material at the hips so that the hemline eased up higher.

“There it is!” Margaery clapped with a smile.

“By ‘it’, do you mean my arse?” Sansa snarked, though her smile could not be tampered.

“Yes.” Margaery answered simply. They both laughed before Margaery stepped up behind Sansa, wrapping her arms around her waist and looking at their reflection in the mirror. “You look great babe, I promise.” Margaery promised with a smile. “Besides, I’ll be there to defend what’s mine.” Margaery joked, smacking Sansa’s bum lightly for emphasis, making her jump and laugh.

“My hero!” Sansa tried to sound put out but the effect was ruined by her laugh.

*~*~*

Sansa walked into the living room, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand, when she spotted her girlfriend sprawled out on the sofa in a pair of ridiculously short, tartan pyjama shorts and Sansa’s old swim team hoody with ‘STARK’ printed across the back.

Sansa huffed as she made her way over to the sofa, putting the mugs down on the coffee table before slumping across her girlfriends back. “Why do you insist on wearing my old hoody, Woman? You know it drives me wild.” Sansa growled directly into the back of Margaery’s neck, purposefully pressing the length of her body into hers as she spoke.

“I do believe you just answered your own question.” Margaery panted, managing to twist enough to pull Sansa’s lips to her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have used a similar theme in one my other works where Margaery likes to steal a team shirt of Sansa's with 'Stark' emblazoned on it but I thought it would work here in this prompt also as I genuinely believe that Sansa would enjoy the possessive feeling that comes with seeing Margaery wearing it so...yeah. Sorry if anyone thinks I'm recycling but I still think it's valid. =D
> 
> *WC68*


	3. Kidfic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 24. kidfic
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if this is what 'kidfic' means...
> 
> *WC68*

Margaery had absolutely no idea where she was. Her Mother had warned her to stay close but she had wanted to find the most perfect branches to be the arms for the snowman that she and Willas were building. She had told Willas that she was going to ask Loras to help her look for two branches good enough for their masterpiece but when she found Loras he said he was a big boy now and didn't build snowmen. He preferred to follow Garlan around, throwing snowballs with some friends that he had made instead of playing with her. Margaery had shouted that Willas wasn't too big a boy to play with her so she didn't even want Loras’ help before she went storming off, intending to find the perfect arms for Mr. Snow by herself.

She searched _forever_ and found three that she thought would be good enough and turned to make her way back to Willas so that he could pick when she realised something…she didn't know which way she had come from. The snow was falling and, as pretty as it was, it made the forest look exactly the same in every direction she looked. Margaery took a moment to look around, lost, feeling her lower lip begin to tremble with her panic before she squared her shoulders, corrected her posture, as Grandma always told her to, before making off confidently in the direction that she _knew_ Willas would be waiting for her with a big, wide smile and a tight hug before mumbling into her hair about how brave she was.

*~*~

Sansa marched indignantly further and further away from the house, wiping angrily at her eyes. _‘Stupid Arya! I'm not silly just because I care what Septa Mordane thinks! She's silly for **not** caring!’_ Sansa argued to herself.

Sansa heard Lady bounding through the snow behind her, the depth of the falling snow already nearly as high as the pup was though she didn’t let it deter her. Sansa continued to fume as she made her way to the Heart Tree. It's where Daddy always went when he wanted time to think.

She continued to push her way through the heavy drift, feeling some snow making its way into her wellies when she saw Lady freeze and her ears perk up. Sansa froze in response. “What is it, Lady?” Sansa asked, nervous. _‘No! I am a Stark. I can be brave.’_ Sansa argued with herself which is why, when Lady went rushing off on the direction of the Heart Tree, Sansa heedlessly chased after her.

As she approached the clearing, over the sound of crunching snow, she could hear the sound of crying. Sansa walked out into the open clearing, cautiously, looking around to see if she could spot anyone through the swirling snow when she saw a girl. The girl was huddled up under the face of the heart tree, hands held up to her face, crying.

Sansa rushed forward quickly, no caution in her now, as she and Lady hurried towards the girl.

“What's wrong?” Sansa asked, making the girl jump and look up, tears freezing on her red cheeks, amber brown eyes sad and glassy. 

“I'm lost!” The girl wept, pitifully, wiping her face against the sleeve of her jumper. “I can't find my Mum or my Daddy or my brothers! I've been walking for hours and all I could find is this scary tree.” She sobbed even more at that statement, cringing away from the face of the tree whilst still cowering against it for cover from the bitter winds.

 _‘This girl doesn't sound like she's from the North. She sounds more like Mother or Uncle Robert or Cousin Robin. Maybe she doesn't know that the gods are in the trees?’_ Sansa thought to herself. “It's okay. The Old Gods live in the trees. They have scary faces to scare away anyone that would want to hurt us.” Sansa explained patiently.

The girl looked over her shoulder to observe the face again before shaking her head and cringing. “It's still scary.” She argued weekly.

“I guess so.” Sansa conceded though she found the faces comforting, knowing that only _bad_ men had reason to fear the Old Gods. “What's your name?” Sansa asked, kneeling down in front of the girl.

“Margaery.” The girl answered, face scrunching as she considered Sansa, tears no longer falling.

“I'm Sansa.” Sansa announced before Lady came barrelling past her and tried to jump up on Margaery.

Margaery screamed, pushing herself further into the tree, presenting the two of them with her back.

“It's okay, it's okay.” Sansa attempted to sooth, pulling Lady back and into her arms, the puppy scrambling eagerly to get back to the new person. “This is Lady. She won't hurt you.” Sansa declared, smiling encouragingly at the girl with the brown eyes and hair; Margaery. “She's a good girl. She doesn't bark a lot like Grey Wind or nip you like Nymeria and Shaggydog do sometimes.” Sansa explained.

When Margaery turned to look at her dubiously, Sansa put her own face to Lady's so that Margaery could see that Lady would only lick, making Sansa giggle in the process. Margaery looked less scared now. “See?” Sansa smiled encouragingly.

Margaery leaned forward slightly, hesitating before holding out her hand for the puppy. Lady immediately started to lick at the fingers of Margaery's gloves and nuzzling her head into them, demanding to be petted. Margaery only laughed when Sansa released Lady, the dog immediately pushing herself up into her hind legs to lick Margaery's face and yowl excitedly, making her giggle as loud as Sansa had. “She's cute!” Margaery announced, fingers stroking over Lady's ears.

“I know!” Sansa agreed proudly. “You can come home with me. My Dad will help find your family.”

“It's so cold.” Margaery whined, looking like she wanted to cry again.

“It's not far.” Sansa promised. When all Margaery did in reply was shiver, Sansa unzipped her coat and wrapped it around the other girl. Margaery eagerly helped Sansa manoeuvre her arms into the warm, extra layer before Sansa zipped it up for her. “Come on.” Sansa encouraged, standing and holding out a hand for her. Margaery took it and stood up with her. Sansa began to pull insistently on her hand, encouraging Margaery to run with her. “Come on, Lady!” Sansa called out over her shoulder, hearing her puppy bark in response before she went darting ahead of them.

Ten minutes later when she and Margaery went running up to the doors of the house, Sansa had decided that she liked Margaery. She was from Highgarden and she loved flowers and sewing and dancing and singing just like she did. Margaery only had brothers and said that she had always wanted a sister and laughed when Sansa said that she could have Arya.

“We could be like sisters.” Margaery offered confidently.

“I'd like that.” Sansa smiled in return. “Mother! I found a new friend!” Sansa shouted as she pulled Margaery into the house.

*~*~*

An hour later and Sansa and Margaery were cuddled up on the sofa together with piles and piles of blankets and Mother hadn't stopped bringing them fresh mugs of hot chocolate before they had even finished the last. Lady was cuddled up between them, constantly vying for Margaery’s attention, making Sansa and Margaery giggle. Margaery had been so cold when they had gotten home that Arya had plopped Nymeria down on Margaery’s other side, ordering her to stay and, for once, Nymeria listened, nuzzling into Margaery’s arm. Sansa had smiled at her sister for that but Arya just flushed and sat on the chair, staring at the TV and ignoring them.

Daddy had called Uncle Benjen at the police station and told him about Margaery and Daddy said that when Margaery’s family called, Uncle Benjen would tell them where to find her so all that there was left to do was wait.

Margaery was happily petting both puppies whilst talking with Sansa when the doorbell rang. Margaery's head whipped around, listening eagerly.

“Hello. Are you Alerie?” Her Mother's voice asked. Someone must have answered because her Mother followed up with, “She's just in here. Margaery! Your Mother’s here!” Mother called out, louder at the end to make sure that they heard.

Margaery immediately started to throw off the blankets and Nymeria and Lady began to bark and let out soft, breaking howls in excitement. Sansa followed eagerly as Margaery ran quickly to the sound of their parents.

Margaery ran straight into the open arms of a lady with the same colour hair as her but with grey bits in it. “Petal!” The woman cried into Margaery's shoulder, standing and squeezing Margaery tighter. “We told you not to go wandering off, didn't we?!” The woman asked though Sansa didn't think that she was really angry since she kept kissing the side of Margaery's head as she spoke.

“I'm sorry!” Margaery cried into her Mother’s neck.

“It's okay, Petal. You're okay.” Her Mother soothed, swinging Margaery to and fro slowly. Margaery's Mother pressed one last kiss to the side of her face before passing her to her Father, all of her brothers crowding around instantly to see that she was okay.

“Thank you so much.” Margaery’s Mother stepped up to her own Mother, clutching her hand desperately in thanks, to which Mother lifted Rickon up higher on her chest and pulled the woman into a hug, rubbing her back comfortingly like she did for Sansa and her siblings when they were sad.

“It's okay. You are more than welcome. All of mine have gotten lost in the woods at some point or another. It's a rite of passage up here. It's just a good thing that Sansa found her.” Mother said, pulling Sansa into her side, causing Margaery's Mother to smile gratefully down at her, making Sansa flush slightly and hide her face in her Mother’s cardigan. “And Margaery was so brave!” Mother directed the final comment towards Margaery who beamed with pride.

“I'm not surprised in the least.” The oldest boy praised with a wide smile that was identical to Margaery's, pulling Margaery from his father’s arms and squeezing her tight.

The one that looked like a boy version of Margaery looked up at his sister, shame written on his face and sad eyes. “I'm sorry I said I was too big to make a snowman with you. We can make one tomorrow.” He promised, eyes desperate for her forgiveness.

“It's okay, Loras.” Margaery smiled, reaching a hand down to run through his hair from where she was still being held in the older boy’s arms.

The other boy stepped up then, silently pinching her side and making her giggle before kissing her forehead.

“Well, come on then.” Margaery's Mother clapped her hands to get all of their attention. “We'd best leave these lovely people to their evening-”

“What?” Margaery balked, kicking her little legs, wordlessly signalling to her brother that she wanted to be put down. “We can't leave now!” Margaery argued with a scandalised tone, running up to Sansa and grabbing her arm, clinging to it desperately. “Sansa was going to show me her room!”

“Sweetling, we've taken up enough of the Starks’ time-” Margaery's Mother started with a calming tone that Sansa recognised from when Mother was trying to placate Arya or Bran before they had a tantrum.

“No!” Margaery cried, dropping Sansa’s arm to run over to her Father, wrapping her arms around his thigh, looking up at him pleadingly. “Please, Daddy? Please can we stay?” Margaery asked, lower lip wobbling suddenly.

Margaery's Father looked towards her Mother who was shaking her head in the same way that Sansa’s Mother did when she thought Daddy was being too easy on her or Arya.

“You should all stay for dinner.” Mother saved the day, readjusting the baby on her arm again.

“Oh, we couldn't put you out any more than we-”

“Nonsense.” Mother interrupted. “I was just about to start dinner anyway and we've got plenty. Besides, I don’t think I'll be able to look at Sansa’s sad little face for the rest of the night if Margaery left now.” Catelyn smiled down at Sansa, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. “We insist.” Mother said in her final tone that no one ever argued with.

Sansa smiled, squealing as she ran up to Margaery and began pulling her up the stairs towards her room. “Come on, Lady!” Margaery called to Sansa’s companion who diligently followed, barking happily. “Mum! They have a puppy _each_! Can you believe it? Can _we_ have a puppy each?” Margaery asked while still running up the stairs with Sansa.

Someone laughed down in the foyer but Sansa couldn't see who. Margaery's Mother answered, sounding a little bit panicked, “Go see Sansa’s room, Petal!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I thought 'kidfic' meant a fic about the couple's kids but then I wasn't sure if it meant them as kids sooooo...I've gone with this anyway.
> 
> *WC68*


	4. On Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 12. on vacation
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I think about going on holidays, I think about...
> 
> *WC68*

“Oh, Sacred Seven.” Margaery swore, looking at her girlfriend’s glowing red back which, somehow, looked even worse in the synthetic lighting of their room than it did by the pool.

“I told you to wake me up!” Sansa snapped though there was a breathlessness to it that came with the pain of scraping off the light layers, agonisingly put on only to walk back to their room.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry! You just looked so peaceful and you hardly slept last night stressing out about packing. Besides, you're…you're kind of grumpy when you’re woken up.” Margaery defended.

Sansa froze at that, turning slowly. Between the red skin and the seething rage on her face, she looked about ready to sprout horns. “Grumpy? Trust me, how I am when I'm woken up is _nothing_ compared to what I'm like when I've been roasted alive!”

Margaery, wisely, decided to stay quiet at that. Sansa slowly and warily stripped off the rest of her clothing, keeping just her bikini bottoms on. “I told you this is what happens.” Sansa complained, pain taking over her ire now.

“I'm sorry. I thought that you may have been exaggerating slightly. I mean, I've seen Robb go tan instantly.” Margaery argued reasonably.

“Robb’s a freak!” Sansa spat, crawling up the bed on her hands and knees. “He defies the physiology of being ginger!” Sansa lamented before lowering herself on to the cold sheets with a huff. “Will you put cream on me?” Sansa whined, using the pitiful voice she used when sick.

“Of course.” Margaery rushed forward, eager to make it up to her red, red-headed girlfriend.

Margaery found the after-sun still in Sansa’s suitcase, putting a healthy dollop in her hand to start, placing the bottle next to her on the bed as she carefully straddled Sansa’s bum.

As soon as the cream came into contact with her overheated skin, Sansa let out a moaning hiss, fingers clenching in the sheets. “I know. I know. I'm sorry.” Margaery soothed, her fingers deftly applying the cream, massaging it in.

As Margaery worked over Sansa’s shoulder blades, Sansa continued to moan and yowl and sigh and pant and clench and writhe and… _‘Oh dear’_ Margaery thought, awkwardly.

Sansa braced herself on her elbows so that she could send a dubious look at Margaery over her glowing shoulder. “Are you kidding me? Is this turning you on?” Sansa questioned, reproachful.

“No!” Margaery laughed off easily, voice not as true as her thoughts.

“You're _rubbing_ yourself against my arse!” Sansa pointed out.

Margaery froze and it was only when she stopped that she realised that she had in fact been doing just that. “Maybe…a little.” Margaery confessed, seeing no reason in denying it.

“Eurgh.” Sansa admonished. “What is it?” Sansa asked. “The cream or the rubbing or noises?”

“It's all very, very good.” Margaery confessed, hanging her head in shame about the fact that her girlfriend was in genuine pain and all Margaery could do was rub up against her like a cat in heat. “I’m sorry.” Margaery repeated again, convinced that she had apologised to Sansa more in the last thirty minutes than she had to any one person in her life previously. “I'll be good.” Margaery promised, solemnly.

“Hah!” Sansa laughed, dubious. “Don't make promises like that _too_ prematurely. You’ve gotten me into this hideous state and I expect you to make it up to me.” Sansa teased, smiling over her shoulder before slumping forward again.

“By hideous state do you mean red or aroused?” Margaery asked curiously, letting her hands continue their soothing application of cream.

“Red and aroused!” Sansa shouted into her pillow, making her girlfriend smirk wickedly.

Now that Margaery knew Sansa wasn't really mad, she took her time, making it more a massage than a responsible post-exposure routine.

Margaery got to the end of her tortuous assignment, somewhat put out that it was over, when she had a thought.

“I missed a bit.” She announced.

“It felt quite thorough-”

“No, no. I definitely missed a bit.” Margaery insisted. “Your bottoms are getting in the way. May I?” Margaery leaned over and whispered huskily straight into Sansa’s ear.

Sansa shivered, nodding her head into the pillow.

Margaery carefully looped her fingers around the rim of the material, pulling on it in such a way that it dragged down her legs inch-by-inch, skimming over the unburnt front of her legs as opposed to the raw skin on the back. When the bottoms were free from her legs completely, Margaery took a second, considering her next move.

Sansa’s toes curled in impatience though she said nothing.

Margaery trailed the back of her fingers up the inside of Sansa’s leg, teasing between the clear, distinct line where ivory turned scarlet. Sansa’s fingers clenched in the pillows and her muscles tensed, waiting.

Margaery teased her thumb lightly over Sansa’s folds, making Sansa moan lightly but remain still.

“That will not do, Ms. Stark.” Margaery admonished, easing two fingers into Sansa, fingertips pushing downwards.

Sansa moaned loud and long, bucking up onto her knees for a second before falling back down, rubbing her face into the pillow with a groan.

Margaery bit her lip, considering the view, continuing the motion of her fingers inside of Sansa, the fingers of the other hand trailing lightly up the line of reddened flesh of knee then thigh, hips and waist.

Sansa would intermittently let out squeals of pain then pleasure and vice versa, mewling and groaning, driving Margaery to distraction until Sansa finally broke, deep relieved sighs leaving her mouth in a beautiful symphony, back and legs tensing before she sagged, panting.

Margaery crawled up Sansa’s body, careful not to touch her before placing a pleased kiss to the back of her head. “Are you going to let me put cream on you every day while we’re here?”

“Let you? I might just beg.” Sansa sobbed, still not lifting her face from the pillow.

“Now, wouldn’t that be something.” Margaery smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of my readers who are, like myself, die-hard _Friends_ fans may have noticed that I have given a nod to something in this chapter, Chandler and Monica-esque. It's not Vapour Rub but it gets the job done...
> 
> *WC68*


	5. Bad Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 15. bad weather
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU where Sansa had not married Tyrion and therefore had not been implicated in Joffrey's death.
> 
> *WC68*

It had finally happened.

After Margaery Tyrell had wed the King, Tommen Baratheon, one of her first acts as Queen was to make Sansa Stark her Lady-in-Waiting. Many had said it an affront to have the daughter of a traitor given such an honour but none dared to say it around the new Queen. A couple of moons after her wedding, the Little Queen had begun to expertly sow the seeds within her new husband’s mind of her sadness, of how much she missed Highgarden, her family and her friends in The Reach. Tommen was a sweet boy and, despite his Mother’s insistence to the contrary, he allowed his Wife a visit home, accompanied, of course, by her retinue, including her new Lady-in-Waiting.

Margaery was positively giddy at being able to keep her promise to the sad, Northern girl whom had effortlessly captured her heart though was sad knowing that Sansa would not return to King’s Landing with them.

The first night home, safe and warm inside the walls of Highgarden, the betrothal of Willas Tyrell and Sansa Stark had been announced to the roaring approval of The Reach. Her heart ached for how happy Sansa looked. She was glad that she could have something to do with it, even if she could not be the direct cause.

She had made a point of showing Sansa everything that The Reach had to offer. She took her for a boat ride along The Mander, picking for apples in the orchards, gave her a private tour of the gardens, painstakingly pointing out each and every variety of bloom and being driven to distraction by the eager and focused look on Sansa’s face as she tried to absorb her words, not for favour or ammunition, merely because she valued them. Margaery supposed that she should have allowed Willas to do these things as a way to court his future wife but Margaery could not stop herself from being selfish in this regard, taking every finite opportunity with Sansa that she had left.

It was this way for half a moons turn before the heavens opened and the rains fell, heavy and generous. Margaery was disappointed, having already planned to spend the day walking though the markets hand-in-hand with the Northerner, purchasing for Lady Stark whatever she desired without her knowledge, saving them to gift her some other time.

“It seems that it is raining, My Lady.” Margaery lamented the bad weather, elbow folded beneath her head as she considered Sansa, laid out on the bed next to her. Sansa did not appear to hear her, lifting herself up onto one arm and staring intensely at the windows where the rain was pelting mercilessly. “My Lady?” Margaery asked, concerned, when her bed maiden got to her feet, as if in a trance, and walked up to doors to Margaery’s balcony, heaving them open before stepping out.

Margaery wanted to tell her to stop, to come back and avoid the cold but Sansa Stark had Northern blood, had played in snows taller than a man when she was no more a swaddling babe; Sansa Stark did not fear the cold. Indeed, Margaery was mesmerised by how at ease Sansa looked as she stepped out into the rain, barefooted, the rain quickly making the bedclothes grasp at her flesh eagerly, turning her light auburn hair the colour of blood, arms open as if embracing the cold like an old friend.

She spun, slowly, face pointed towards the heavens, droplets dancing from her hair as it swung with her. Margaery would not describe the look as happy; it was peaceful. The tranquillity on her face was transcendent for only a moment and then it morphed, her face twisting, muscles pinching as sobs began to escape her throat. But, still, she spun and held her arms wide as the rain wiped the tears from her face before they could travel their own path.

It was then that Margaery realised how hard it all was for Sansa, how much she pretended every day that she had forgotten, that time had healed her wounds and wiped away the aches like a summer rain.

But they had not; that was clear to see now. Sansa worked every day to give her act the mask of ease.

It made Margaery Tyrell love Sansa Stark even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried a different style with this one; short and very little dialogue.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, nonetheless.
> 
> *WC68*


	6. Food Porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 7. food porn
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to Google 'Food Porn'.
> 
> *WC68*

“Oh shush, shush! It's on again!” Margaery demanded of everyone excitedly, waving her hands like a bird about to take flight.

“Oh gods, not again!” Elinor groaned.

“She is slightly obsessed, isn't she?” Alla asked, sounding concerned.

“The woman…is a goddess!” Margaery stated, holding her hands up to the television, as if praising it. The group of girls were just grateful that the coffee shop was practically empty or else Margaery would have likely gone around the tables shushing them too.

“You don't even know what she looks like.” Merry argued, putting her coffee cup down on the table with a pitying shake of the head.

“It doesn't matter about her face.” Margaery rebuked easily. “Her voice!” Margaery enthused, closing her eyes and bringing her hands to her face as if in prayer, waiting for her favourite part.

 _“Traditionally cured, Iron Island salmon with creamy mustard and dill sauce. Hand prepared turkey with Goldengrove apple and sage stuffing, wrapped in maple cured bacon. Casterly Rock red cabbage with apple and cranberries, slow braised in red wine and tawny port sauce. Connoisseur, Weirtide pudding, packed with plump sultanas and steeped in Rosby cognac.”_ The breathy voice seduced with a slow, deep bass playing in the background, the imagery of the food showed on the screen almost as tempting to Margaery as the voice. _‘Actually, no. No competition. Not even close.’_ Margaery corrected immediately, shaking her head.

“Eurgh. I think I just came a little bit.” Margaery confessed aloud, making the others burst out laughing. _'I just **can’t** pick which word sounds the best in that voice. Which word is my favourite? ‘Creamy’ or ‘Stuffing’? Maybe ‘Sauce’. All I know is, no one should be able to make the word ‘Cabbage’ sound as sexy as she does.'_ Margaery concluded.

“You're hopeless!” Megga boomed fondly.

“The woman is _the voice_ of food porn!” Margaery groaned in pleasure. “What I wouldn't give…” Margaery trailed off wistfully.

“She could look like the back end of a cow!” Alyce suggested reasonably but insistent.

“Nonsense. And you will not talk about my one true love in that way.” Margaery admonished playfully. “Besides, if she wasn't traditionally aesthetically pleasing, who cares? We're all the same in the dark. And I could still listen to her speak in the dark.” Margaery smiled happily, closing her eyes and drifting away on a fantasy.

"You...need...help." Elinor said seriously, leaning across the table to meet her cousin’s eye.

"My intentions are entirely pure!" Margaery argued, grinning lecherously.

"Nothing's been remotely pure about you for quite some time now." Alysanne put in straight-faced, making everyone else howl at the put out look on Margaery's face and Alysanne's usual, unaffected delivery.

"I'm getting another cup." Merry announced as she stood up. "Who wants a refill?" Merry offered to the table at large.

Merry took the requests and walked up to the counter. The rest of the girls carried on with their idle conversation as Merry waited in line behind a redhead that caught Margaery's attention briefly before Alla asked her a question about work.

A moment later and Merry started to laugh her ridiculously loud laugh, bracing her hands on her knees and looking as if she were about to die before she dragged the auburn haired girl over to their table. The girl looked a little alarmed, looking longingly at the counter as if hoping the barista would save her.

"Oh my gods! Listen to her! Listen to her! She sounds just like your favourite person, Margaery." Merry encouraged wickedly.

"What the hell are you talking about? And let the poor girl go, crazy!" Margaery demanded, giving the redhead an apologetic smile, noting her pretty blush in return.

Merry dutifully dropped the girl’s wrist. "Please? Please say something?" She requested of the girl excitedly, undeterred.

“Like what?” The girl asked, voice uncertain and expression embarrassed yet somehow resolved.

“Something about food!” Merry pressed, eyes wide and eager.

The girl said nothing for a moment, looking at Merry as if to say, ‘Are you serious?’

“I appreciate that this one is a bit of a weirdo but she can be terribly annoying so it’s easier to just do as she asks.” Elinor advised the redhead patiently.

The girl sighed, resigned before shaking her head as she tried to think. “Golden, roasted Bandallon parsnips coated with wildflower, Myrish honey and whole grain mustard dressing.” The girl announced huskily, flushing almost straight away.

 _‘Oh my gods.’_ Margaery swore internally, fidgeting at the deep, breathy timber of the voice and the look on the girl’s face as she closed her eyes and spoke the clearly well-practiced words.

“Hah! You _do_ sound like that bird from the adverts.” Megga laughed, clueless. “My cousin wants to fuck her so badly!” Megga laughed, gesturing towards Margaery.

“Megga!” Alla jumped in on her behalf. “I’m sorry that my friends seem to have forgotten their manners… _and_ boundaries!” Alla chided, glaring at their cousin.

“No problem.” The girl smiled politely, still looking a little flushed.

“Sansa!” The barista called out bored, reading the name dispassionately from a to-go cup.

“Well, that’s me.” The girl, Sansa, nodded behind her shoulder, looking awkward again. “So…it’s been a pleasure.” She smiled meekly before turning on her heel and walking back to the counter.

“Gods be good, Merry! You need to stop grabbing strangers like that. It makes you look psychotic.” Alyce reprimanded, glaring at her oldest friend self-righteously.

Margaery let them fade out, eyes following the girl and, before she realised it, the rest of her had too. She was suddenly stood next to Sansa, uncertain of how she got there and even less sure of what to say. The girl’s gaze whipped up from where she was looking through her bag and towards Margaery, looking cautious.

“Hi.” Margaery spoke unthinkingly.

“Hello?” Sansa replied, somewhat confused.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about my friends. They’re…idiots.” Margaery explained, gaining a small laugh from the beautiful Sansa.

“It’s okay, really.” Sansa excused, looking less awkward now; more curious than anything.

“You…you are the voice from the adverts, aren’t you?” Margaery asked, resigned, heart in her throat.

“Uh…yes.” The girl smiled, consolingly, as if she pitied Margaery slightly, hoping that this truth would not embarrass her even more.

Margaery nodded, a pained expression on her face as she looked down, a flush rising in her own cheeks now. “Oh…great.” She drawled, making Sansa giggle.

“Well, it was certainly nice to meet my biggest fan.” Sansa teased, beaming smile splitting her cheeks now as she searched through her bag blindly, not taking her gaze from Margaery’s.

Margaery nodded continuously for a moment before she seemed to snap herself out of it. “Let me buy your drink.” Margaery offered, voice thick as though she’d just come out of a trance.

“No, no. There’s no need-” Sansa tried to politely decline.

“I know but I think you deserve it after this…ordeal.” Margaery joked, throwing a copper star on the counter, enough for the drink and a tip.

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you…”

“Margaery.”

“Margaery.” Sansa smirked, her expression looking as if she was _tasting_ the name in her mouth and enjoying the flavour.

Margaery grinned, suddenly knowing which word in that voice was her favourite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, it's funny; I Googled 'Food Porn' because I was unfamiliar with the term and mostly just a bunch of blogs on Tumblr came up so I went off of the Urban Dictionary definition. Anyone British might remember the Marks & Spencer's adverts a few years ago? Well, that was my inspiration and when I Googled for a script I could quote, Urban Dictionary popped up and stated 'Marks & Spencers: known for their food porn adverts' and I was like, _'Hah! I freaking nailed it!'_
> 
> So, anyway, you can watch one on Youtube if you're unfamiliar but that was my clear inspiration and was quoted for 'Food Porn Script'.
> 
> *WC68*


	7. Arguing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 11. arguing
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! It's Saturday and a day off to boot so have managed to get today's entry up early!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> *WC68*

“Sansa, I cannot have this argument again!” Margaery shouted, frustrated, rolling away from Sansa and standing from the bed to put some distance between them.

“What argument?! Are we arguing?!” Sansa rebutted, sounding confused as she sat up but matched Margaery for volume out of instinct. “I don’t even know _why_ we’re arguing. All I said was-”

“All you said was is what you always manage to mindlessly say, illustrating your naivety perfectly!” Margaery spat interrupting, pulling on her dress, angrily.

“I don’t know why you get like this!” Sansa yelled, voice catching slightly with emotion, made more obvious by her volume. The redhead also got up and started to dress angrily. “So what, I talk about walking hand-in-hand along the coast at Sunspear? So what, I talk about what our wedding dresses will look like or what hair colour our kids will have and whose eyes? So what?!” Sansa questioned, face looking lost as she zipped up her jacket.

“That is _not_ the world we live in!” Margaery answered vehemently. “You’d best learn that lesson quickly.”

“Don’t patronise me, Margaery!” Sansa warned, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Then stop being an idiot!” Margaery seethed in return.

Sansa was silent, face pinched, jaw clenching before she stormed out of the room, slamming their bedroom door behind her and Margaery listened as her feet stomped down the stairs and then out through the front door, that too crashing closed after her.

Margaery’s adrenaline and anger kept her form rigid and panting in the middle of the room for a moment before the energy drained out of her body and she slumped onto the bed, head in her hands.

She hated this. She hated that when Sansa spoke innocently of the future she saw for them, a dark cloud always stole over Margaery, making a cold dread creep up her spine. She could not begrudge Sansa for wanting those things, a home, a family, an easy life; it was nothing less than what she’d expect Sansa to yearn for but every time she verbalised her want of those things, it made Margaery horribly aware of the fact that _she_ could not give them to Sansa.

Being gay was still a taboo in Westeros. They were not free to have children. They were not free to marry. They were not free to even walk down the street together without getting sniggered at. Sansa knew this, had seen the looks that people gave them; the amused and lecherous stares of men, the snide and judging looks of other women or the downright disapproving and angry glares from the elderly and the pious.

The thing was…Sansa wasn’t gay. Sansa did not exclusively ‘like’ women the way that Margaery did. Sansa had dated more men than women in the past and saw no difference between a relationship with a man and a relationship with a woman besides the sexual aspect. She thought it could be the same no matter the person but it was not so.

Sansa was not limited as Margaery was. Sansa was free to have the things that she so desperately wanted; it would just have to be with someone other than Margaery.

Margaery could not bear that.

It was a cold dagger straight into her heart whenever Sansa got that vacant, wistful, little smile on her beautiful face and Margaery would know instantly what thread her thoughts were following.

Sometimes she felt guilty; like their relationship was a cage and Sansa a beautiful, little bird that needed nothing more than to spread her wings and take flight. Margaery had considered more than once giving Sansa her freedom, breaking their ties and cutting her loose so that she could freely and without guilt pursue her dreams but Margaery was far to selfish a creature to do such a thing.

She loved Sansa too greatly to ever be without her. So she would just live in fear every day, waiting either for Sansa to realise that she could not have it all with Margaery and leave her or for Sansa to stay with her forever whilst resenting her under the surface for not being enough to make her truly happy and give her what she wanted.

 _‘Sansa thinks love is simple and easy.’_ Margaery thought bitterly, curling into herself on the bed, hugging Sansa’s pillow tightly and breathing deeply to stave off her sobs. _‘It’s not.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am officially 25% through the 28-Day Prompt List Challenge for Femslash February 2015!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads, gives Kudos and/or Comments; this is really taking up all of my free time at the moment to meet the deadlines so it does give massive encouragement!
> 
> *WC68*


	8. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 17. the morning after
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these are meant to be one-shots (which this does still work as) but you _may_ notice that this chapter seems to follow on somewhat from **Chapter One: Neighbours**...funny that!
> 
> *WC68*

_‘Why does my alarm sound different?’_ Sansa thought confused, wondering when someone could have had the opportunity to change it without her knowledge, lifting her arm up automatically to bring down on her bedside t…

“Oww!” Her table protested.

Sansa jumped and open her eyes widely, letting out a squeak as she attempted to scramble away from the voice, trying to take in her surroundings quickly. “Where am I? Where am I?” She asked, panicked.

“Hey, hey, hey.” A familiar voice calmed as a hand reached out and stroked down her forearm. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re at my place.” Sansa finally identified the voice as that of her neighbour, Margaery.

It took Sansa a moment to catch her breath, looking around the unfamiliar room, wondering why she was waking up in here. _‘And naked.’_ She realised, flushing, holding the sheet tightly to her chest. _‘Oh right, the party.’_

“Are you okay?” Margaery asked, concerned, sweeping a thumb over Sansa’s cheek making the redhead look down and shiver.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sansa tried to sound nonchalant as she attempted to subtly scoot away from Margaery on the bed, feeling incredibly guilty when the brunette’s face fell.

“Okay then.” Margaery looked unconvinced, biting her lip, sitting up to switch off her alarm, sheet dropping to her waist carelessly, leaving her bare before she turned her gaze back to Sansa. A tense, silent moment followed. “Oh, gods!” Margaery groaned, shaking her head and looking at Sansa cautiously. “You regret it, don’t you?” Margaery asked, throwing off the sheet and standing straight away without awaiting a response, dressing distractedly. “I knew it. I said you were too drunk and we could just go to sleep but then you started kissing my neck and telling me _“I’ve wanted this for so long”_ and I let myself get carried away.” She fumed, angry at herself, unable to meet Sansa’s eye.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sansa tried to slow her down, grabbing her hand. Margaery stopped immediately, staring at the hand holding her own as Sansa did the same. “It’s not like that.” Sansa spoke firmly, rubbing a calming thumb over Margaery’s fingers as she pulled on her arm slightly, trying to get her to take a seat next to her on the bed again. “I just…didn’t remember straight away, that’s all.”

Margaery smiled at that, shaking her head. “Oh wow. You really know how to bolster a girl’s pride, Wolf Girl.” Margaery snarked, huffing out a laugh.

“Oh, come on!” Sansa laughed awkwardly, put slightly at ease by Margaery’s teasing smile whilst also fidgeting with discomfort at having to have this conversation. “I’d only been conscious for three seconds, at most, and I’m…I’m not used to waking up in a room that’s not my own. Be fair! I remember everything.” Sansa’s voice held a promise, staring at Margaery with open honesty.

“You’re sure?” Margaery asked, sandwiching Sansa’s hand between her own, looking down at her lap. “You’re sure that I didn’t take advantage of you when you were drunk? This wasn’t rapey?”

“No!” Sansa enthused earnestly, impulsively pressing a kiss to Margaery’s hand before she could consciously make the decision to do so. “It wasn’t like that. What I said last night…that was true.” Sansa smiled, despite her blush at the confession.

Margaery laid herself out on the bed, smiling widely now, looking at Sansa intensely for a long moment before her face looked troubled again. “So, what’s wrong?” Margaery questioned. “You seem to be having some sort of…crisis. If it’s not regret then…”

“It’s _not_ regret.” Sansa clarified, firmly. “I just…” Sansa began, struggling to find the words before shaking her head at herself, frustrated.

“I’m pretty certain it’s not an identity crisis regarding orientation because _you_ …” Margaery laughed a deep, sultry, little laugh, making Sansa flush, “…have definitely been with a woman before based on your…talents.” Margaery pressed calmly, attempting to tease it out of Sansa.

“I’ve been with women before!” Sansa admitted, embarrassed but still laughing. _‘Margaery can always make me laugh easily when I’m not too distracted by how smitten I am with her.’_ Sansa acknowledged to herself. “I just…haven’t had the best of luck before.” At Margaery’s curious look her mouth started to speak without her consent, desperate to explain the reason for her ambivalence so that the older girl didn’t think that she was the cause. “My first boyfriend was a psychopath; he liked to hurt me.” Sansa spoke dispassionately, back straightening defensively, forcing herself to push on before Margaery could retort. “My next boyfriend’s lusts were greater than I realised; while we were together, he had a bastard with one girl and I only realised when he had one more on the way with another. My first girlfriend had been a friend of mine for a long time but she only wanted me to raise her position. My last girlfriend threw me under the bus for something I hadn’t even done and I had to leave King’s Landing and come here just to get away from her lies.” 

“I’m sorry.” Margaery stated honestly, amber eyes staring deeply into Sansa’s with an intensity that bordered on uncomfortable, making Sansa feel even more exposed but she could not deny its sincerity.

“I just don’t want to be hurt again.” Sansa confessed, voice weak even to her own ears as she breathed deeply, paying intent focus to the design on Margaery’s sheet.

Margaery scooted closer to Sansa, sitting up so that they were eye-to-eye, reaching across Sansa’s body to run a soothing hand up and down her forearm. “It’s probably empty for me to say but I have no intention of hurting you, Sansa. The people you just mentioned, it seems like they intended you harm or were apathetic to the possibility. _I_ really like you, Sansa; hurting you is the last thing I’d want to do. If you give me a chance, maybe I could show you.” Margaery spoke sincerely, inflecting the words at the end, making them sound like a hopeful question.

Sansa bit her lip, hesitating, wanting nothing more than for Margaery to be telling the truth. Margaery continued to smile a small, encouraging smile and Sansa gave in, nodding her head.

Margaery let out a relieved breath, smile beaming. The Highgardener reached out a hand, cupping Sansa’s jaw, thumb tracing the edge gently. Sansa was powerless to resist and, for the first time in a long while, the feeling did not fill her with dread. Margaery leaned in at the same second that she did and they shared a gentle kiss; suddenly, Sansa wasn’t afraid anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you _have_ connected this Chapter to **Chapter One: Neighbours** , it may go towards explaining Sansa's previous ambivalence in regards to Margaery.
> 
> The past partners Sansa was talking about, in order, were Joffrey, Harrold Hardyng, Jeyne Poole and Shae, just in case anyone was interested.
> 
> Also, I'm just saying it now so that no one calls 'bullshit' later; I will likely be away from internet connection for the next four days as I will be on a work-related course in the middle of nowhere! It's like they don't even care about my commitments here!
> 
> I will still be attempting to meet the daily deadlines of this challenge, even if I cannot post.
> 
> So, if there is radio silence from me over the next few days (unfortunately, this will include me replying to comments, which I try to do as close to on a daily basis as possible [sorry]) know that I have not abandoned my post! I am still a Watcher on the Wall...I'm just on a mini-break in Mole Town. ;D
> 
> *WC68*


	9. Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 5. domestic
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Internet connection! Still in business.
> 
> I will try to reply to any and all comments as soon as possible! Thanks for your patience.
> 
> *WC68*

Margaery had never thought that she would be the type to enjoy a life of domesticity.

Margaery Tyrell was Eight-and-Twenty and had never lived with someone who was not part of her family before, let alone a partner…until now. She had thought that it was going to be a very steep learning curve that would test the boundaries of her relationship with Sansa, inevitably leading to a loss of ardour for each other, simmering resentment, bitter arguments and, eventually, a vicious break-up; that’s simply what a monogamous, close-quarters commitment had always implied in Margaery’s mind.

However, she had been with Sansa for longer than she had ever been with one person before, nearly a year in fact, and the younger woman had made it clear that she needed _something_ from Margaery; some gesture of her commitment. Margaery had thought that agreeing to be monogamous two moons into their relationship was a fairly significant _gesture_ to illustrate that she did not see Sansa as merely a ‘passing phase’ but apparently that was not enough for the Northerner.

Four moons on and things had been…fairly blissful. There had been a couple of typical teething problems; minor disagreements on things like how often the flat should be cleaned or what kind of milk they would buy but nothing too dramatic.

So far, the benefits had far outweighed the costs and Margaery, unthinkingly, now found herself even more in love with Sansa Stark than she had been before. Margaery had found these extra nuggets of love in the little things.

She loved that Sansa would make her a cup of tea whenever she would make one for herself without even offering.

She loved that Sansa would always steal her socks to wear around the flat, even though she insisted that she didn’t need to have any of her own.

She loved that whenever she was sprawled out on the sofa reading a book, Sansa would silently sit on the other end, lift her feet into her lap and massage them idly while she would watch the TV.

She loved that Sansa would always happily wash all of their clothes but _hated_ to iron and would always leave that to Margaery, though it had never been expressly agreed upon.

She loved that, despite always _hating_ dogs, over the last few moons, Sansa’s beautiful wolf dog, Lady, had become _their_ dog, even taking commands from Margaery that she ignored from Sansa, completely vexing the redhead.

Margaery loved the nights that the three of them would cuddle up on the sofa, Lady jumping up to sit across their laps even when she knew that her friends were out hitting the clubs.

Surprisingly, Margaery even loved that Sansa would now wear pyjamas to bed; not even sexy pyjamas, just normal, run-of-the-mill, plaid shorts and a camisole top but it drove Margaery absolutely wild for reasons that she could not explain. She liked to wait until Sansa had gotten dressed for bed and was tucked up under the covers before setting to work with stripping them off.

Like right now.

Sansa was lying on her side under the blankets, facing away from the bathroom as she set her alarm for the morning. Margaery sneaked in from the bathroom, naked as the day she was born, getting under the covers and cuddling into Sansa’s back before she could roll over. “You tired?” Margaery asked teasingly, kissing the back of her neck.

Sansa laughed, turning over and bracing herself on her elbow. Sansa eyed Margaery with a considering look lathered with fake nonchalance, lifting the blanket to confirm and admire Margaery’s naked form before eyeing her girlfriend lecherously. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Margaery began, leaning into pepper kisses to Sansa’s lips, pulling away whenever the younger girl tried to linger, “it’s chilly and since you keep stealing my socks, I thought you might lend me your pyjamas?” Margaery requested innocently.

“But I’m wearing my pyjamas.” Sansa played along seamlessly.

“Not for long…” Margaery promised, rolling Sansa onto her back as the other girl giggled happily.


	10. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 22. wedding
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying that it could have happened, I'm just illustrating logic that could have been applied...
> 
> AU- A Storm of Swords
> 
> *WC68*

“Lady Margaery!” Sansa exclaimed, struggling to keep up with the Highgardener as she pulled her along behind her, insistently. “I do not understand!” Sansa pressed again in a harsh whisper as they paused, waiting for the two patrolling Gold Cloaks to pass before the older girl pulled her across the narrow alleyway.

“I need you to trust me, Lady Sansa. Can you do that?” Margaery asked, trying to speak calmly but her agitation was clear to see, illuminated by the small lantern that she carried. The thought of trusting anyone caused a cold dread to seize up in Sansa’s chest but she nodded all the same, sensing Margaery’s urgency.

It took them over an hour of stopping and starting, dodging Gold Cloaks and townsfolk alike before Margaery gratefully pulled her into a small building with an open space that looked like it normally served as a small alehouse. The room was empty and had been cleared except for two men and a girl. The girl Sansa recognised instantly as Elinor Tyrell, Margaery’s cousin; the men Sansa did not know. One was tall with broad shoulders and a flat face who wore the green and gold of house Tyrell that Sansa guessed, based on his size, was likely Ser William Wythers, a Knight sworn to the Tyrell’s service. The other man was fat and wore the robes of a Septon though he was so in his cups that he could not stand up without Ser William’s firm grasp on his arm.

“What is going on?” Sansa asked as she lowered the hood of the plain, black cloak that Margaery had insisted she wear, confused at what was happening and why she had been pulled out of her bed in the middle of the night by the older girl to come here.

“That is what I would also like to know.” Elinor stepped forward with an expectant look on her face. “Cousin, why are we here….and with a Septon?” Elinor asked, Tyrell amber eyes curious and worried.

“Give me a moment; I need to explain to Lady Sansa first.” Margaery replied tersely, face still anxious.

“Margaery-”

“Elinor! Do as I ask!” Margaery commanded, eyes flaring with irritation. Elinor took a deep breath, back tensing at the command but slinked away angrily towards the Knight and the Septon.

“My Lady?” Sansa enquired softly, trying to catch the older girl’s stare.

Margaery took a deep breath, pacing slightly as she braced herself for whatever she had to say, whatever she had to do next. “Lady Sansa, this morning one of my Father’s men intercepted a raven intended for Tywin Lannister; it was from Roose Bolton.” Margaery started, sending an apologetic look towards Sansa when the Northerner flinched at the name of the man who had betrayed her Mother, slayed her Brother and stole her Father’s seat. “In the letter they spoke about you and…and your marriage to Bolton’s bastard son, Ramsay.”

Sansa felt the blood drain from her face. “Marry Ramsay Bolton?” Sansa asked, feeling sick to her stomach, unable to think of anything worse.

“I do not intend to let it happen.” Margaery declared emphatically, grabbing the top of Sansa’s arms and staring into Sansa’s eyes with an overwhelming intensity.

Sansa was struggling to think, trying not to dwell too much on the clawing hatred climbing up her chest at the thought of marrying the bastard son of her Brother’s killer but she started to piece together what was happening. “You would have me marry Ser William?” Sansa asked with confusion.

Margaery blanched and Sansa knew that she was only half correct.

“No. Ser William is a Knight but he is not of a high enough standing to marry the true heir of Winterfell.” Margaery explained quietly.

“They have given my Father’s lands, his home, his title to that coward, Roose Bolton! Those loyal to the King do not see me as the true heir of Winterfell.” Sansa argued bitterly.

“No, those loyal to the King do not. The Northmen, however, are still baying for blood, Bolton Blood, for what was done to your family at the Red Wedding and they will only follow a Stark, which is why Tywin Lannister intends to give you to his new Warden of the North.” Margaery agreed and expounded.

Sansa closed her eyes and swallowed. “So, if not Ser William then why are we-”

“It would need to be someone from another ruling family of Westeros, someone whom is in too strong a position to face repercussions from the Royal Family for foiling them.” Margaery interrupted, eyes pleading Sansa to understand.

She didn’t.

“I do not-”

“Me, My Lady.” Margaery interrupted, face flushed.

“You?” Sansa laughed before she could stop herself, feeling lost when Lady Margaery did not join her. “But…but you are a woman!” Sansa exclaimed, confused.

“Yes, My Lady, I realise that.” Margaery replied, face expressionless.

“Then I do not understand.” Sansa reiterated, feeling a silly girl, as though she were missing something obvious.

“Sansa,” Margaery spoke softly, dropping titles as she held Sansa’s hand, pulling them to her breast, “I can think of no other course. My brothers are outside of the city and will not reach it before you would be sent North. There is no one in this rats nest that I trust enough to wed you and _not_ sell you to the Lannisters at a later time. There is no one else of a high enough status in the city that can be trusted! So, it must be me.” Margaery pleaded her to understand, eyes begging.

“But…but you are betrothed to the King!” Sansa asked, confused as to why Margaery would throw away being Queen to prevent Sansa being sent North to marry Bolton.

Margaery looked down at that, taking a bracing breath before straightening her spine. “My family will be angry.” Margaery agreed, nodding her head, paling slightly, likely considering the Queen of Thorns’ reaction. “But I would not jeopardise your safety for a crown. I could not bear any harm coming to you, Sweet Sansa.”

Sansa pulled one hand from Margaery’s grip to run through her hair in agitation, leaving the other in the brunette’s hold. “The Queen Regent would never allow it-” Sansa begun, trying not to get her hopes up for an escape from the further hell that the Lannister’s had yet to unleash upon her.

“That is why we have witnesses…” Margaery interrupted, sweeping a comforting thumb over Sansa’s cheek, nodding to her cousin and Ser William behind her, “and the High Septon himself presiding.” Margaery smirked, amused, casting a look over at the fat, stumbling man whom Sansa did not even recognised as the High Septon with vomit down his robes and no crystal crown resting upon his shiny, bald head.

At that moment the door opened and a hooded figure silently entered; everyone tensed. The newcomer removed her hood and nodded towards Margaery, Margaery returning the nod respectfully before the cloaked stranger walked over towards the High Septon and greeted him with a voice ringing with distaste. “Your Holiness.”

At Sansa’s confused look, Margaery leaned in to whisper directly into Sansa’s ear, her flowery perfume filling the Northerner’s senses. “My Septa, Septa Nysterica, was mentored by Septa Helicent who is one of the Most Devout; she will also witness in exchange for a generous donation to her Motherhouse.” Margaery explained, amber eyes wide with the victory she sensed was near. “Ser William and my cousin will flee the city tonight and return to Highgarden for their safety but not before they sign the Declaration as witnesses. The High Septon, a Septa of the Most Devout, a Lady and a Knight; it is too strong! They will not be able to deny that the marriage has taken place.” Margaery enthused eagerly, eyes wide.

“The Faith will not allow two women to wed.” Sansa argued to distract herself from Margaery’s closeness and tempting words.

“The Faith has wed woman to woman before, Sansa; countless of Targaryens for hundreds of years and _they_ were sisters! This is far less unseemly.” Margaery argued with excited calm, the cover from sight and all of the pieces now in place giving her a manic sort of confidence, the emotion rushing over her face in waves.

“How will we…bed each other?” Sansa asked, flushing terribly. “It will all be for naught if they say the marriage is not consummated.”

“We…that will be a discussion for later, My Lady. I must have your answer for we are running out of time.” Margaery implored, beginning to get agitated again, whether due to timing, as she said, or the topic of conversation, Sansa was not sure.

 _‘Is this my only alternative?’_ Sansa thought to herself desperately. _‘To marry into the family that murdered mine and stole the legacy of my forebears or…wed a woman?_ She had not ever considered such a thing possible though she certainly knew which person she would prefer to be bound and sworn to for the rest of her days. Of one thing Sansa was certain; Margaery’s kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything. She had learned to distrust everyone in King’s Landing, to question their motives…but Margaery was losing more by abandoning the certainty of wedding a King, risking becoming a pariah by wedding, not just a woman but a traitor’s daughter at that. Sansa simply could not see what Margaery would gain by doing this; it seemed to Sansa that it was _she_ who would reap the greatest benefits from this match.

“Why would you throw away a crown for me?” Sansa asked simply, studying Margaery’s face closely for any sign of falsehood.

Margaery paused for a long moment, eyes considering Sansa in return before she replied. “As I said, My Lady, my conscience would simply not abide you being sent away to marry a man such as that. I have heard a great many worrying things about the Bastard of the Dreadfort. You are a sweet girl, Sansa. You risked yourself for me once by speaking the truth about Joffrey when no one else would dare; to warn me, to save me. You were so brave! I wish to do you the same kindness.” Margaery answered earnestly, eyes pleading with Sansa to believe her words. Sansa started to smile, lip twitching minutely and it seemed that Margaery believed she had her answer. “And, in truth, I am not necessarily throwing away a crown; your Brother declared himself King in the North and as you are his heir that makes you a Queen. Mayhaps my crown will simply be made of weirwood instead of gold.” Margaery smiled but it was less confident and more open than any Sansa had ever seen on her face before; more vulnerable. “My Lady, do you consent?” Margaery asked, holding both of Sansa’s hands again.

Sansa took a bracing breath, staring deeply into the older woman’s eyes before she nodded resolutely.

Margaery’s smile was like the sun at her response; beaming and beautiful. “Wonderful! Then we must begin.” Margaery encouraged excitedly.

Margaery put a supportive arm around her waist as she had before when they had walked through the gardens of the Red Keep together and led her towards the rest of the group.

 _‘This will not be like any wedding I had ever envisioned for myself.’_ Sansa thought to herself as Margaery guided them purposefully across the room. There would be no dashing Knight, no Stark maiden’s cloak, no Heart Tree, her Mother would not weep and her Father would not give her away but she would be getting a person; a kind, generous, beautiful person, someone brave and gentle and strong, as her Father had always promised her. Margaery would also give her safety and security; Margaery would take her home. That was more important than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this for one of the other prompts but then I thought that it fit for 'wedding' better.
> 
> To be fair, when I started writing this, I was like _'This was never going to happen'_ but then...I kind of convinced myself that it _could_ have happened. Hah! If only!
> 
> *WC68*


	11. Fake Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 10. fake married
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Just about made the deadline!
> 
> Chapter Ten was written for 'fake married' originally before I had a change of heart.
> 
> Quite a short one. I started writing it then thought how it seemed to fit as a prequel for 'on vacation' but was genuinely not planned as that....do with that as you will.
> 
> *WC68*

“Thank you for flying with us today. We hope you enjoy your free upgrade and have a great honeymoon, Mr and Mrs Penrose.” The air hostess trilled enthusiastically, handing the couple their tickets.

“Oh my gods!” Sansa exclaimed, shaking Margaery’s hand excitedly. “Did you just hear that?” Sansa asked animatedly as they stood in line, waiting to check-in for their flight.

“Babe, if you want an upgrade, I will buy us an upgrade.” Margaery replied simply, kissing Sansa’s exposed shoulder, wishing that the Notherner would just accept Margaery spending money on her.

“Why would I want you to _buy_ us an upgrade when we can get it for free?” Sansa asked, eyes mischievous and brow raised in challenge.

Margaery huffed in mock irritation. “You are _far_ too obsessed with bargains and penny-pinching to have such a ridiculously rich girlfriend.” Margaery surmised with a drawl, bringing her sunglasses down from the top of her head to rest on her nose with a mocking aloofness.

“I’m not with you for your money.” Sansa announced confidently, leaning in slowly to kiss her girlfriend on the lips. “I’m with you for your body.” Sansa clarified cheekily, looking Margaery up and down for a moment before averting her gaze.

“Oh, I’m glad that’s been cleared up.” Margaery snarked back at her girlfriend’s teasing.

“Next please!” The lady at the counter called out cheerfully and waved.

Margaery picked up her suitcase and made her way forward, Sansa following close behind. “Pretend we’re on our honeymoon.” Sansa whispered loudly into Margaery’s ear.

“What?!” Margaery balked, alarmed.

“Come on.” Sansa wheedled as they got closer to the woman. “They’ll give us free stuff!” Sansa beamed, excited by the prospect.

“Isn’t that a tad dishonest?” Margaery hedged, amber eyes dubious.

“Have you developed a conscience all of a sudden?” Sansa laughed. “Please, please, please?!” Sansa begged, squeezing Margaery’s arm with a puppy-dog look, big blue eyes shining innocently.

“Eurgh, fine!” Margaery surrendered, resigned smile cresting over her face at her own weak will when it came to her redheaded girlfriend.

“Quick, grab my arse!” Sansa commanded, throwing an arm over Margaery’s shoulders as they approached the counter, pulling her in closer to her side.

Margaery had never needed to be told _that_ twice.

“Hello Ladies.” The peppy, blonde stewardess greeted. “Confirmation of booking, please?” She woman requested happily.

Sansa handed over their confirmation sheet with a smile. “We’re really excited to be going to Naath finally; didn’t sleep a wink last night.” Sansa shared with a wide grin. The Blonde smiled in response but did not reply, focus remaining on the screen. “We’re going for our honeymoon!” Sansa offered without prompting.

 _That_ caught the Blonde’s attention more than the idle chitchat had. “Oh! How lovely! Congratulations!” She enthused genuinely.

“Thank you; I’m very lucky.” Margaery played along, putting her left hand on top of Sansa’s on the counter, now having a band of gold on her ring finger having switched it from her other hand whilst Sansa had been speaking.

“Well, let’s see what we can do for you.” The Blonde raised a dramatic, conspiratorial eyebrow at them. “Right, well, we _have_ had some last minute cancellations and now have two first class seats available.”

“Oh, wow!” Sansa smiled a fake, wide smile, one used purely for false flattery and getting her way, swivelling her head towards Margaery with a significant look. “That’s _so_ nice of you!”

*~*~*

Sansa was in a particularly good mood as they walked down the corridor together behind the bell boy. They had arrived in Naarth a couple of hours ago and were granted a small reprieve from the blistering heat of the small island by the blissfully, air-conditioned building.

Sansa had been pushing the ‘honeymooners’ line all day and had gotten them an upgrade on their flights to first class, a couple of magazines for free on top of their purchase at the shop in duty-free, a free bottle of champagne on the plane, half off a pair of tickets to a show for tonight in the centre of the city and a free upgrade to the Honeymoon Suite from the hotel.

“We’re good from here, thanks.” Sansa stated to the bell boy before he could turn their key in the lock.

“We are?” Margaery asked, confused before repeating the question as a statement, more resolutely at her girlfriends significant look. “We are. Thank you.” Margaery stated, flipping the young man a silver stag for his efforts. “Why didn’t we let him help us in?” Margaery asked her girlfriend, confused as the bell boy ecstatically made his way back towards the elevators with a definite spring in his step.

Sansa said nothing, just turned to the key in the door and pushed it open before spinning towards Margaery and lifting her up in her arms, making the older girl squeal. “Because I _have_ to carry you over the threshold,” Sansa explained, laughing as she struggled to maintain her balance as she entered the room and walked down the small corridor, “them’s the rules.” She clarified with a giggle.

She managed to stumble her way to edge of the bed, dropping Margaery onto the plush mattress gratefully before collapsing on top of her girlfriend. “I think I’ll enjoy being married to you someday.” Margaery laughed, pulling Sansa’s face towards her own firmly.

“Me too.” Sansa agreed with a serene voice, returning her kiss soundly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, as always!
> 
> It is Natalie Dormer's 33rd Birthday but it is also my Sister's Birthday too so 'Penblwydd Hapus' to all of those born on 11th of February!
> 
> *WC68*


	12. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 14. first time (doing what?… you decide)
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [E]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People seem to keep asking "Where's the sex?"
> 
> ...
> 
> Here's the sex.
> 
> Originally with this prompt I thought, 'I'm not going with the obvious sex thing here' but then it somehow ended up being a sex thing anyway so there we are.
> 
> *WC68*

The doorbell sounded at exactly 6pm and Sansa jumped up immediately having been poised eagerly on the edge of the sofa for the last fifteen minutes, waiting.

She nervously assessed the flat that she had spent the day rigorously cleaning as she walked towards the door, smoothing down her dress and checking her hair and make-up in the mirror quickly before she opened the door.

When the door swung open to reveal Margaery Sansa’s breath caught in her throat. The brunette was smirking wickedly, looking Sansa up and down pointedly, grin widening, seemingly pleased by what she saw. "Hey." Sansa welcomed, concentrating on breathing normally.

Margaery didn't respond verbally, just stepped forward, pushing Sansa back into the flat and up against the wall, closing the door without sparing it a glance as she sealed their lips together. Sansa returned the kiss eagerly, excited with the prospects that the night could bring. After a long moment Margaery broke the kiss, pulling back slowly, Sansa's lips thoughtlessly following though Margaery kept her body pinned to the wall by the firm placement of her hands on Sansa's hips. "Be patient, Sweet Girl. We have _all_ night." Margaery smirked her usual smirk as she removed her coat, walking backwards into the flat, holding Sansa's gaze until the last second.

 _'Yes.'_ Sansa mentally agreed, giving a smirk of her own. _'For the first time ever I have you all to myself for the entire night.'_

*~*~*

Sansa had been looking forward to this evening for two weeks ever since they had both realised that Joffrey would be away at Casterly Rock at the same time that Mya was returning to the Vale to visit with her mother, leaving Sansa with an empty flat and Margaery with no possessive fiancée breathing down her neck; the potential of those combined facts were fabulous.

It was not easy to carry out an affair with one of the most recognisable and famous aristocrats in the country but it was even harder when said aristocrat was engaged to another…and you were one also. Sansa could not have intentionally selected a more complicated romantic scenario to find herself in but there it was; she had never had a choice when it came to Margaery.

However, Sansa refused to let it bother her tonight because they were not merely sneaking some time before Margaery had to run off to meet Joff or needing to be really quiet in case Mya heard them through the thin walls; this was time just for them to _be_ together, just Sansa and Margaery: The Couple.

Sansa had prepared a three-course meal in between bouts of nervous cleaning throughout the day and, even though Margaery was the better cook, she was immensely proud that nothing had ended up burnt and the older girl had nearly gone cross-eyed when she’d tasted the crème brûlée, accompanied by a deep moan which was horribly distracting to Sansa who almost accidentally swallowed and choked on her spoon. Afterwards, they had spread out on the sofa, Sansa with her head resting in Margaery’s lap, listening to her lover sing, horribly, along to the finals of the singing competition that they watched every week, enjoying being able to watch it together for a change.

After the show was over and Margaery spent a full ten minutes ranting about how the whole thing was fixed because the pretty, Dornish boy that she’d been voting for every week hadn’t won, Sansa had had enough and leaned in to kiss Margaery into silence before pulling her along to her bedroom to take her mind off of her disappointment.

*~*~*

“Ahhhh…” Sansa sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead harshly against her arm where they were folded on the bed in front of her in an attempt to distract herself from the feeling that Margaery was inciting between her thighs.

“Does that feel good, Sweetling?” Margaery questioned on a pant, letting a fingernail trail gently over Sansa’s spine as her hips continued their thrusting.

“Mmmmm.” Sansa moaned softly, biting her lip. “It’s alright.” Sansa smirked, loving to tease Margaery just so during sex.

“Only, ‘alright’?’” Margaery asked as her hips stopped, sounding a bit put out even though she knew that Sansa was only messing with her.

Sansa let out a moaning laugh, reaching a hand behind her to run up Margaery’s thigh in apology, fingers tracing the edge of the harness, significantly. “Ah, please don’t stop Marge. Please. I’m so close.” Margaery let out an annoyed huff but started to move her hips again at their previous, tortuous pace. “Ah, gods! I do love you, you know.” Sansa proclaimed in ecstasy.

“I know.” Margaery replied and Sansa knew without needing to look that the brunette was smirking but suddenly didn’t care as Margaery pushed slightly on Sansa’s lower back in a wordless command to tilt her hips and began to press deeper. Sansa buried her face into the crease of her elbow, moaning into her duvet long and deep as she came. Thighs shaking and panting heavily, she threw herself down onto her back, running her fingers through her hair as she tried to catch her breath, staring up at the ceiling.

Margaery’s movement in her periphery caught her attention so she tilted her head to give the girl her full attention. Margaery was fumbling blindly with the buckles of the strap-on, trying to take it off quickly whilst not breaking her study of Sansa. The Highgarderner’s amber eyes had darkened and she was panting herself when she finally got the straps undone and threw the toy off to the side. “I need your mouth, Sansa.” She declared simply.

Sansa nodded obediently, lifting her arms to grab Margaery hips and thighs as she crawled up her front, holding her secure when she stopped, kneeling over Sansa’s head. Sansa did not wait a second before pressing her lips and tongue eagerly into Margaery and along her folds. Margaery braced her hands onto the wall in front of her, groaning deeply. Sansa judged based on how wet her girlfriend was and her movements that it would not be long before she peaked too; Sansa was right. After only a couple of moments of Sansa alternating between lathering her tongue along her sex and pressing it insistently into her clit Margaery broke, throwing her head back and crying out her release.

If there was a more spectacular sight in this world than looking up at Margaery mid-orgasm, head thrown back, chest heaving and flushed, Sansa had never seen it.

After several seconds of Margaery’s spine being taut with muscles aquiver she finally sagged like a marionette with the strings cut, slumping in an ungraceful manner to the side of Sansa, leaving a calf strewn carelessly across the redhead’s chest. “Sansa Stark, you are a goddess!” Margaery enthused almost drunkenly.

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Sansa smiled proudly, looking at Margaery glowing next to her, feeling somewhat silly that Margaery could still make her flush just by _saying_ things like that to her despite all of the things that Margaery had actually _done_ to her.

“You were thinking that you are a goddess?” Margaery asked with a teasing smile, turning her head to look at Sansa and raising an eyebrow. “How uncharacteristically conceited of you.” Margaery laughed a rare genuine laugh.

“Hah hah!” Sansa mocked, grabbing Margaery’s leg and gently biting the fleshy part of her calf, making Margaery squirm and laugh louder.

“You are staying tonight, right?” Sansa asked, trying to make it sound casual but knowing she sounded blatantly hopeful.

“You say that like I _haven’t_ been thinking of nothing else for the last fortnight.” Margaery drawled before crawling up the bed and pulling back the blankets. “Silly girl.” Margaery smiled fondly, giving Sansa a kiss to her forehead when she got up to join her.

Sansa smiled, trying to tamper it down immediately to mask her pleasure at Margaery’s identical anticipation. “So, what side of the bed do you sleep on?” Sansa asked, feeling strange at having to ask the question of the woman who had been her girlfriend and lover for nearly eight months.

“This side; stage right.” Margaery answered with a smile and a wink, settling herself under the covers. “You?”

“The other side, uh…stage left?” Sansa answered, blushing at Margaery’s laugh. “Which is a good thing;” Sansa pushed on in an attempt to distract Margaery from her humour, “if you had said otherwise, I might have rescinded your invitation.” Sansa stated with mock seriousness as she joined Margaery under the sheets.

“Hoh hoh! Easy Tiger! I’ll play nice, I swear.” Margaery promised, smiling wide with an innocent expression that was somewhat less believable when you are nude, covered in a light sheen of sweat and have sex hair. Sansa said nothing, lying down on her back and letting out a big sigh. “So, I’m guessing you’re a cuddler?” Margaery asked, doe eyes set to stun.

Sansa crossed her arms, pretending to pout. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“No?” Margaery queried, smile creasing back into a smirk.

“No.” Sansa insisted, eyes challenging.

“Hmmm. Okay then.” Margaery conceded, closing her eyes with a smile, crossing her fingers over the sheet across her stomach, waiting. A moment passed, neither woman saying anything before Sansa huffed, rolling onto her side and cuddling up to Margaery’s side. “Oh, hello there!” Margaery mocked with a smug, satisfied smile.

“Oh, shut up.” Sansa retorted, not bothering to look up from where her face was nuzzled into Margaery’s neck.

Margaery laughed, the motion jarring Sansa slightly but said nothing, wordlessly lifting an arm to drape around Sansa’s shoulders, pulling her in closer before they lapsed into silence.

Sansa lay there, desperately trying to switch off her brain so that she could just relax and savour this rare moment with Margaery. Sansa almost hadn’t realised before just how stressful her time with Margaery normally was, trying to enjoy things as they happened whilst all the time constantly waiting for Margaery’s phone to ring with Joff’s ringtone, looking around when they walked down the street to make sure that no one recognised either of them, making sure that she wasn’t being too affectionate in public or constantly listening for the sound of Mya’s key in the door. Tonight had been…perfect; so perfect it made her sad. Before she realised she was filling up, she felt a tear snake down her nose and fall onto Margaery’s neck; she froze, hoping that Margaery didn’t feel it.

Margaery chest sputtered slightly and Sansa heard her swallow heavily before her hand lifted and began to run through her hair. “Let’s just have tonight, Sansa. Okay?” Margaery spoke directly in Sansa’s hairline, pressing a kiss there.

Sansa nodded her head, saying nothing, instead just burrowing closer into Margaery’s embrace. Margaery pulled away slightly to switch the lamp off before returning to her previous position, Sansa wrapped around her like a vine. “I love you, Sansa.” Margaery confessed in the safety of the dark.

Sansa smiled a watery smile at that, breathing in deeply to stave off the last of her wistful melancholy, savouring the declaration from Margaery that was the only thing able to make her smile despite her mood. Compared to Sansa who, in the right company could say ‘I love you’ as commonly as ‘Hello’, Margaery was positively stingy with the declaration, the rare occasions that she offered it a thing to be treasured and savoured.

“I know.” Sansa smiled, feeling it in her bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I hope you have enjoyed.
> 
> *WC68*


	13. Mistaken Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 9. mistaken identity
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WC68*

_‘Mmmmm. Mar-gah-rita!’_ Margaery thought in a sing-song voice as she took her first moan-inducing sip of her chilled beverage. Her phone chirped in her bag and Margaery sighed in relief. _‘Thank gods, Merry! About time! Only thirty minutes late for a change; how refreshing!’_ Margaery unclasped her bag, pulling out her mobile and pressing the button to wake the phone up.

**_Sorry, Bitch! I pulled a ridiculously hot girl at the place where I was having my pre-drink drinks. We’re on our way back to her place now. Sorry…but not really ;P xxMxx_ **

_‘Little Bitch!’_ Margaery fumed, unable to comprehend getting stood up by one of her oldest and best friends…‘but not really’. _‘It’s Merry, after all.’_

Margaery put her phone down on the bar, shaking her head in annoyance at being left to sit here for the rest of the night with no one for company…

“Excuse me.” A soft voice questioned behind her. Margaery turned idly, thinking that whoever it may be was just going to ask her for a napkin or something, when she took stock of the girl stood next to her. She looked to be about Five-and-Twenty, tall with long, red hair that was braided over her shoulder, wide, bright blue eyes and a nervous smile on her stunning face.

“Yes?” Margaery replied, hoping that she didn’t sound as gobsmacked to the girl’s ears as she did her own.

“I…I’m sorry but are you Myranda?” The gorgeous girl asked.

 _‘No but I wish I was.’_ Margaery thought, regretting her own identity for the first time in her life.

The redheads face blanched at her lack of response, flushing slightly. “Oh, gods! You’re not! I’m sorry! My…my flatmate, Mya, told me to meet her friend Randa here and that she’d be wearing a green skirt and you clearly aren’t her so…” The redheaded trailed off, turning away awkwardly.

“Wait, wait. Yes, I’m Randa.” Margaery called out, not certain of what exactly caused her to say it.

The girl’s face became hopeful. “Yeah?” She asked, looking the older girl up and down, slow enough to illustrate her interest but quick enough not to be lecherous.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I don’t usually go by Myranda; it threw me a little bit…that and how beautiful you are.” Margaery answered smoothly, easing into the fit of the lie now, wearing it like a second skin, as she’d been raised to.

“Oh…wow.” She smiled, laughing slightly in surprise. “Mya said you were cute but…I didn’t think she was being coy for once. I’m going to have to buy her…like…a houseplant or something.” The redhead laughed more openly now. “Though Mya would probably prefer a six-pack.” Red teased, raising an eyebrow at Margaery, expecting her to get the joke.

“Right, I was just going to say.” Margaery played along, smiling, something about the girl drawing her in.

“So,” She started, biting her lip as she took off her coat and took a seat next to Margaery at the bar, “Mya didn’t tell me much. Just that you were friends back when she lived in the Vale. I kind of thought you’d have a similar accent; you sound more…Southern?” The younger girl inflected at the end, question clear and face confused.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve lived down in Highgarden for _most_ of my life but I have moved around quite a bit.” Margaery answered with a half-truth, not fancying putting on a terrible Valish accent for the rest of the night.

“Oh, I’m surprised that Mya didn’t tell me that.” The other girl smirked to herself with a flush, looking at the cocktail menu.

“How come?” Margaery asked, having a tingling sense that she would love the answer.

“Oh, she…” The redhead trailed off, shaking her head and giggling to herself, causing Margaery to fidget in her seat, “she knows that I have a ‘thing’ for a Reach accent. She must have found the idea of me squirming ‘entertaining’.” She tried to shrug it off as she distracted herself with the menu.

“That’s probably why she didn’t tell me you were Northern.” Margaery flirted to distract the girl from her embarrassment, eying her significantly. “Such a cow.” Margaery joked, causing her to giggle again.

Margaery lifted a hand to get the barman’s attention and the girl ordered a strawberry daiquiri.

“Strawberry, huh? You strike me as more of a ‘Lemon’ type of girl….” Margaery seduced, enjoying the flustered smile from the Northern girl before she came up short, realising something suddenly.

 _‘Oh gods. I don’t know her name.’_ Margaery thought, panicked.

Margaery stirred her drink thoughtfully, listening to the girl speak about her job and her siblings and her dog, trying to absorb it all whilst also trying to think of a plan to elicit her name from her subtly. “I know I should probably play it cooler than this,” Margaery started after they’d ordered another drink, looking up at the girl coyly, “but I was hoping I could get your number?”

She flushed a lovely pink and looked down at her hands. “I’ve not decided how much I like you yet.” The girl teased, sending her a mischievous smile.

Margaery leaned in, placing a hand over the girl’s on the bar, dragging her nails over the back of her hand lightly. “Please?” Margaery drawled, emphasising her accent purposefully.

The redhead fidgeted and she knew she had her. “Oh, well, since you said please…” She laughed.

Margaery eagerly unlocked her screen and handed the girl her phone, watching as she quickly typed her details in. The girl’s phone began to vibrate on the table between them, causing Margaery to raise her eye in question. “Just in case you decide to prank call me at three o’clock in the morning or something.” The Northerner smiled, licking the remnants of strawberry daiquiri from her lips as she handed Margaery back her phone.

Margaery looked down at the screen and smiled. “Sansa.” Margaery drew out, testing the name on her tongue. Sansa smiled but her brow scrunched minutely in confusion. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Margaery grinned.

*~*~*

“Are you sure you can’t stay for another drink?” Margaery asked as Sansa put her coat on, hoping she didn’t sound desperate.

“I’d love to…but I have a class in the morning.” Sansa replied with an apologetic look, seeming genuinely aggrieved. “But never fear, you have my number, Randa. I may even pick up.” Sansa teased in the coy, smiling in a way that was unique to her and her alone.

A horribly unfamiliar feeling began to claw its way up her throat; guilt. Sansa was an amazing woman; beautiful, smart, funny, caring and…Margaery regretted meeting her in a lie. Sansa was special and the more time that she spent walking this path, the more she could jeopardise things.

Margaery was quiet as they put on their coats, following Sansa silently out of the bar so that she could put the girl in a taxi. The Northerner was giving her concerned glances in her periphery vision but said nothing as she hailed a passing cab.

Sansa was about to open the door of the taxi when Margaery stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist. Sansa looked up expectantly, face open and innocent, giving the guilt more depth.

“I’m sorry.” Margaery declared earnestly.

“For what?” Sansa asked with confusion, seemingly bracing herself for some sort of blow.

“My name’s not Randa.” Margaery confessed, assessing the redhead’s reaction carefully. “I’m sorry.” Margaery repeated again. “You just…you came up to me and you looked so…I just wanted to get to know you better.”

Sansa shook her head in disbelief, looking down. “I don’t believe this.” She moaned, looking disappointed.

“I’m sorry…please,” Margaery stepped up to block Sansa getting into the taxi, “please; I think there was something there, wasn’t it? I don’t…I don’t click with people easily; it’s rare. I’d…I’d love it if you could give me a do-over, a chance to…take you out, maybe?” Margaery asked, uncertainly. Margaery didn’t like to be uncertain in anything.

Sansa sighed, eyes closed, rubbing a hand over her forehead in agitation or in thought, Margaery couldn’t say.

“Excuse me.” Someone spoke off to the side. Both Sansa and Margaery turned to look at the newcomer, a buxom girl, shorter than Margaery with brown eyes and tight, curly, brown hair. The girl was wearing a black top with a green skirt and was eying Sansa’s hair closely. “Are you Sansa?” The girl asked, eyes assessing as she looked back and forth between Sansa and Margaery.

The seconds of silence that followed were the longest of Margaery’s life.

Sansa looked at her, eyes considering before turning to the other girl. “Sorry Darling, my name’s Alayne.” Sansa spoke with a perfectly imitated, Valish twang and a sad shake of her head.

“Oh. Sorry.” The girl smiled apologetically, holding up her hands before turning and walking back into the bar.

 _‘She was actually kind of cute.’_ Margaery thought, thinking she should feel guilty at seeing the girl she’d stolen Sansa from but she couldn’t summon up enough regret for that.

Sansa sighed deeply and looked back towards Margaery, face stoic and critical. “What’s your real name?” Sansa asked, still seeming unsure.

“Margaery.”

“Margaery…” Sansa seemed to taste the name in her mouth in the same way that Margaery had done earlier with hers. “I hope you’re worth it.” Sansa stated vehemently, leaning over the now open car door to kiss her on the cheek. “Guess I’ll have to change your name in my phone.” Sansa commented idly as she got into the car, making Margaery smile in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WC68*


	14. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 20. dancing
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [E]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows on from **Chapter Seven: Arguing**.
> 
> Just in case anyone is thinking because it's Valentine's Day this is going to be all sexy and fluffy and romantic, you're wrong...it's just sexy. ;P
> 
> *WC68*

Margaery huffed in annoyance, watching as Sansa swayed and shimmied her body on the dancefloor, strobe lights making her girlfriend look ethereal. Margaery continued to glower darkly at the redhead, pulling heavy sips from her tumbler of whiskey, while Sansa was either clueless to Margaery’s unhappiness or just couldn’t care in the slightest.

This morning, she and Sansa had argued and Sansa had stormed out. Only an hour before they were _supposed_ to go out for Alla’s Name Day had Sansa returned, not saying a word to Margaery as she got ready for their night out.

 _‘Sansa always could pout spectacularly.’_ Margaery thought sourly.

Margaery did feel bad for Alla and everyone else though; it was obvious that she and Sansa were not on good terms and, though Sansa had been her usual, bright, happy self for everyone else, it must be horribly awkward for them all, especially with Margaery sulking in the corner, not speaking to anyone. On top of the more obvious signs that all was not well in paradise, as her friends well knew, Margaery Tyrell only drunk whiskey when she was in a bad mood so if the girls hadn’t realised before they had reached the club that something was off, they certainly did by the time she made her first drink order of the evening.

Margaery continued to watch Sansa dance as though she didn’t have a care in the world, first with their group of friends and then on her own as everyone else filtered off to rest their feet, get a refill of their drinks or use the privy.

Margaery was brought a new tumbler, barely acknowledging the server as she kept her eyes on her tipsy girlfriend, swaying drunkenly by herself.

As Margaery took her first, burning sip of the new glass, a tall, lithe male with long, silver-blonde hair approached Sansa, saying something loudly into her ear that made her laugh and nod before he wrapped an arm around her, swaying with her.

The fingers holding her tumbler tightened and her nostrils flared in anger as she watched the man stroke a teasing finger down _her_ girlfriend’s arm, lean in to speak directly into Sansa’s ear while Sansa just smiled drunkenly, eyes closed as her hips continued to move of their own accord, in rhythm with the stranger’s. The man’s arms came around Sansa’s hips, resting low on her back, pulling her in closer so that their hips locked together as they moved, pressing their fronts together intimately and that’s when Margaery broke.

She slammed the glass down harshly, whiskey shooting upwards in an unintended geyser, making the others at her table jump but ignored their curious glances and questions as she made a beeline straight for her girlfriend.

Margaery pushed through people heedlessly, losing sight of the redhead intermittently as she made her way across the dancefloor. When she was only a couple of feet away from Sansa she noted that her girlfriend now had an arm wrapped around the man’s neck and that he had a hand resting on her ribcage, thumb sweeping lazily across the fabric of her vest, dangerously close to the side of her breast.

Margaery burst out from between another dancing couple, almost falling into Sansa and the stranger. The guy noticed her first, smiling easily at her and she just knew he was fucking Sansa’s ‘guy-type’.

“Hey!” Sansa welcomed, bringing her free hand up to stroke through Margaery’s hair but Margaery slapped it away quickly. Sansa’s anger started to crest through her drunken apathy, giving her eyes focus. “Oh, what? You’re not talking to _me_ now?!” Sansa asked loudly over the din of the music, eyes blinking out of synchronicity from each other.

Margaery didn’t bother to respond with words, instead choosing to grab a handful of Sansa’s hair with one and her shoulder with the other before pulling her harshly from the stranger’s embrace, bringing her mouth to her own in a searing kiss.

Sansa responded immediately, which surprised Margaery considering her earlier anger, both hands coming up instantly to cradle the brunette’s face, opening her mouth wide to receive Margaery’s tongue.

When Margaery pulled away quite abruptly a moment later, Sansa’s face followed hers for a moment, unthinkingly, and Margaery smirked, sending it pointedly at the bloke over Sansa’s shoulder who, to his credit, just smiled, nodded his head and held up his hands in surrender.

Sansa’s face was inches from her own and staring at her heatedly but Margaery didn’t lean in again, instead grabbing Sansa’s hand and pulling her along, off of the dance floor. Sansa trailed after her willing, not asking where they were going, just clutching Margaery’s hand tighter.

Margaery knew that she had to have Sansa and she had to have her now. The only question was _where_?

She didn’t have the patience to get a taxi and wait until they got home. The privy was also out as the club itself was heaving so the Ladies Privy would be even more so; stepping into the men’s privy might be the only thing in this moment that could halt her ardour for her girlfriend, so that was also not an option. _‘Besides, in the privy, we would get tattled on and thrown out before I could even get Sansa’s undergarments off...or wolf-whistled at by perverts.’_ Margaery thought, annoyed, neither prospect amenable to her. Luckily, Margaery had been to this club once before to pick up her drunken cousins so knew for a fact that there was a little used, private carpark for the office block just across the lane from the club.

Margaery pulled Sansa eagerly behind her, out of the fire exit, crossing the lane silently before entering the car park. It was empty, as Margaery expected it would be. Margaery noticed a little nook in the corner that would keep them out of sight, walking over to it immediately, spinning Sansa and pushing her roughly into the corner.

“Owwww.” Sansa whined drunkenly but otherwise looked unaffected.

“Sorry.” Margaery apologised evenly, bringing her teeth immediately to Sansa’s neck and biting harshly.

Sansa squeaked at that, pulling Margaery in closer and pressing her hips forward, breaths coming out quicker now.

Margaery didn’t wait any longer, immediately putting a searching hand under Sansa’s skirt, shifting her undergarments to the side and pressing a finger into Sansa without preamble.

Sansa groaned loud and deep at that, a mix of pleasure and pain at the suddenness of the penetration without properly being prepared for it. “I guess you weren’t into Blondie so much after all?” Margaery smirked wickedly, trying to catch Sansa’s eye but they were both closed, head thrown back, expression focused as she thrust her hips pointedly.

Margaery brought her thumb up to sweep insistently over Sansa’s clitoris until there was enough moisture for her to add a second finger.

“Ah! Marge! Fuck!” Sansa whined, fisting her hand in Margaery’s curls, pulling them lightly, making the brunette growl. Margaery brought her face back to the exposed, ivory skin of Sansa’s throat, intent on marking it for everyone and anyone to see.

A moment later and Margaery began mindlessly thrusting her hips, attempting to give her fingers more depth when Sansa howled out her orgasm, face tilted towards the moon, looking like a pre-transformation werewolf, fingers pulling none to gently at her girlfriend’s hair until her body sagged, held up only by Margaery’s body pinning hers to the wall.

They both panted for a long moment, saying nothing.

Finally, Margaery smirked victoriously, licking a stripe up the column of Sansa’s throat. “You’re _mine_ , Sansa Stark.” Margaery growled deeply, directly into Sansa’s ear, kissing the blooming bruise she had made on her neck, wrapping her arms around the younger girl, possessively.

“I’m yours.” Sansa agreed, still panting as she lifted an arm around the shorter girl's shoulders. “I’m glad you remembered.” Sansa stated, breathing raggedly as she began to press sweet, gentle, butterfly kisses to Margaery’s cheekbone.

Margaery nearly sobbed at that but just buried her face in Sansa’s neck and squeezed her tighter instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's y'all!
> 
> *WC68*


	15. Rivals to Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 13. rivals to lovers
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've spent two days writing this! The idea's been in my head for a while now and it fit the prompt so serendipity!
> 
> *WC68*

"Sansa! Sansa!" Was being yelled out, desperately and repeatedly, by a number of different voices, the din accompanied by a lightning strike of flashing bulbs.

Margaery tilted her minutely to observe the sight in her periphery, not willing to be caught giving attention to her new rival in anyway, not willing to lose ground so soon.

Margaery had been the only name in modelling for some years but now some Northern savage had floated down south on a snow cloud from hell and started making a name for herself and muscling in on Margaery’s territory. _'Well, trying to at least. I don't intend to go easily.'_ Margaery thought to herself with a snarl.

She turned away and started to work the room, flattering, joking and laughing politely, trying not to seethe when she would see her various companion’s eyes flit behind her to track Sansa's movements, clearly eager to meet her. Margaery had been on the scene for such a long time, and a skilled networker besides, that she had spoken to everyone worth speaking to in the industry at least once but Sansa Stark was the shiny new toy that everyone wanted to play with.

After about an hour of listening to excessive enthusiasm for the Northerner with limited talent and Margaery was preparing to leave, putting on her coat rather aggressively.

"Hello." An unfamiliar voice spoke behind her but based on the accent...

Margaery turned slowly, adjusting her jacket, eying the girl shrewdly. She was tall; taller than she looked in her work. She had flowing, light auburn hair that you could tell was, annoyingly, natural. Her eyes were wide and trusting, a shocking, bright blue; all of her features, mixed with the innocent, shy smile on her face and it was not hard to see why she was marketed as the approachable, girl-next-door type.

"Oh, wow! I've been trying to catch your eye all night but I just couldn't wait any longer...the two glasses of champagne didn't hurt my nerve, either." She smiled, holding up her flute as if in salute.

Margaery said nothing.

"I'm sorry." She flushed slightly, pressing a hand to her head. "I am being ridiculously rude." She shook her head at herself, holding out her hand. "I'm Sansa, Sansa Stark." Stark smiled invitingly.

 _'Who shakes hands?'_ Margaery thought distastefully but nevertheless, offered her hand, refusing to be bested by the fake-innocent act the twit was putting on.

She’d seen it all before.

"Margaery." Margaery replied evenly, leaving it at just her first name, not to be casual, just to assert that she did not need to clarify a family name; there was only one Margaery.

"Oh, I know." Sansa smiled widely, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "You're, like, my hero!" Margaery nodded her head silently, distrustful. "I mean, I know it may sound ridiculous that you're my hero; I mean you're not that much older than me..." _'Old enough in this business.'_ Margaery thought coldly, "but all that you've done! Man, seeing what you achieved in such a short time, practically overnight you blew up and...it was just really inspiring. Helped to keep me going and motivated during my lower moments to be honest. This business is _not_ easy to elbow into."

"No it's not." Margaery agreed. _'And just as hard to stay in.'_ Margaery tacked on wordlessly.

A large, hulking figure approached them then. He had long, stringy, mousy brown hair, tied back with a leather thong and horrendous scars down the side of his face. "Sorry to interrupt. Little Bird, we have to get going." The scary man declared plainly.

"I'm mid-conversation, Sandor." Stark enthused, giving what she likely thought was a subtle tilt of her head towards Margaery.

"Your Mother was quite insistent. Got on my case about why we haven't left already." The imposing man, Sandor, rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

Sansa huffed but looked like she wasn't willing to go against her mother. "Family as managers are killers, right?" She smiled at Margaery, referring to her Grandmother who managed her. Margaery gave one of her fake smiles in response. "Well, I did say that I would put in an appearance at Baelish's party tonight." Her eyes lit up suddenly with excitement. "Are you going to that? Can we give you a lift?" She offered eagerly, looking like a puppy about to wet herself.

 _'I haven't been invited this year.'_ Margaery thought, dully. "No, I'm going elsewhere." Margaery demurred. _'Home.'_

"Oh.” Sansa replied, a disappointed smile on her face. “Yeah, it's not really my scene either." She stated, looking like she would have rather been heading anywhere else.

The girl continued to chitchat to her as they left the venue, seemingly not taking the intended offence by Margaery’s lack of response.

They exited to another lightning strike of camera flashes, capturing the interaction between the two rivalling, major talents in the modelling industry.

"Hey, I don't know if this would be your thing at all but...it's my Name Day next week and I'm working off-continent for it so I'm having a small party tomorrow. Would you...I'm sure you have plans already but...would you like to come?"

 _'To a Name Day party? Damn, this bitch is good!'_ Margaery thought incredulously but disappointed that she'd never thought of it before. "Will the guest list be similar to this?" Margaery asked, gesturing behind them, trying to sniff out a set up.

Sansa laughed. "No!" She enthused, shaking her head emphatically, looking like a juvenile. "It's quite small; more of a family thing. Mostly people from back home I'm flying down as a treat for myself."

 _'Oh, that's her game!'_ Margaery thought, pleased that she could finally see the bitch's game through her fake-innocent smiles and general, all-around adorableness. _' **She** thinks that I'll say ‘no’ because I'd be intimidated by being alone in a room with just her and her pack of Northern Wildlings! Well, I learned at a young age to **look** the rose but **be** the thorn and if this jumped-up little cow thinks she'll steal my crown, she has another thing coming.'_

*~*~*

She rang the doorbell, agitated but attempting to project a polite lack of enthusiasm. Sansa herself answered the door after a moment, opening it wide in welcome; Margaery had half been expecting her guard dog, Sandor.

“Margaery! You came!” Sansa smiled a wide, a tipsy smile, wrapping her arms around Margaery’s shoulders and squeezing her tightly. Margaery froze; she did not like people invading her personal space.

Sansa stepped away after a moment that was far too long in Margaery’s opinion, the pleasant strawberry scent in her hair lingering, pissing Margaery off even more. “Thank you for inviting me.” Margaery stated politely, feeling unusually awkward when she handed Stark the expensive bottle of eighty year old Arbour Gold that she’d had sitting on a shelf at home.

Sansa’s eyes went wide, taking the bottle from her with a grateful smile. “Oh my gods! That’s…so lovely! I only invited you yesterday, I didn’t expect anything.” She seemed so genuinely surprised and grateful, it almost made Margaery flush.

“It’s not a problem; my family _do_ own half of the wineries after all.” Margaery demurred with a smile. _‘It doesn’t hurt to remind her **exactly** what family she’s dealing with.’_

“Oh, I don’t know much about wine.” Sansa smiled with a rueful shake of the head. “I mean, I know your family are really wealthy and everything…I don’t live under a rock but I…I’m more interested in you, I guess. You’re my favourite Tyrell!” Sansa joked.

Margaery smiled politely, less certain of the girl than ever. The Highgardener felt overdressed which made her feel on edge. The redhead was dressed simply in short dungarees, a purple belly top and converses, her long auburn hair tamed in a braid while Margaery’s heels alone looked like they cost more than the pink, VW beetle in the driveway, parked between two, elegant sedans that she guessed Sansa didn’t drive herself. It was bizarre that she could all too easily imagine the girl driving the pink monstrosity, singing along to Taylor Swift or Justin Bieber or something equally nauseating.

If Sansa Stark wasn’t genuine then she’d missed her calling as an actress. Margaery wasn’t certain of what to do with that. 

*~*~*

The last couple of hours had flown by. Margaery had been pulled around and introduced to a variety of people that she would not be able to name again, all very smiley and down to earth and _so_ clearly not from around here.

She was speaking to a gawky boy who looked like a male version of Sansa, her brother Bran, when Sansa started to squeal and jump up and down excitedly, running towards some brunette. She wrapped the stranger in her arms instantly, still jumping up and down and jostling the smaller girl. She did not take her arm from around her shoulders when they broke apart, sharing a significant look and Margaery smirked to herself. _‘Well, well. The girl-next-door likes girls…of any door. Wouldn’t that just completely destroy her perfect, age-appropriate, wholesome image?’_ “They seem close.” Margaery commented to Sansa’s little brother.

“Sisters are like that.” Bran replied casually. “It’s not always been that way though, believe me!” He smiled the same smile as his sister.

Margaery felt slightly disappointed, thinking that she had almost had some juicy ammunition against her new rival. Bran continued to chat to her, looking a little bit smitten ( _‘Dear boy.’_ ) but Margaery could not forget about the potential coo of such a thing and what it would do to the newcomers fledgling career. Margaery had somewhat of a reputation as a ‘dabbler’, a promiscuous play girl of the capitol but that was part of her image, her visage; Sansa’s appeal was completely different and being labelled as _gay_ did not lend itself.

Margaery watched as Sansa dragged her sister over to the main table, picking up the bottle of wine provided my Margaery, announcing to all, “Now that we’re all here we can raise a glass.”

A woman who looked like an older version of Sansa who Margaery instantly recognised as her Mother and Manager, Catelyn Stark, approached both daughters at the table. “You should save this for a special occasion, Sansa.” The woman chided softly.

“This is a special occasion!” Sansa enthused earnestly. “I never get to see you all anymore.” Sansa’s voice turned rueful with a small pout.

The cork was popped and a happy round of cooing and cheers followed as Sansa tried to pour the alcohol quickly and share it equally.

Margaery keenly observed as Sansa swept around the garden, handing out flutes of nectar to family and friends with a smile. She approached Margaery last, smile seeming to get even bigger as she handed her a flute and kept the other for herself. “Thank-you again.” She beamed.

Sansa’s youngest brother began to boom out an off-key chorus of _Happy Name Day_ and everyone else joined in just as raucously, Sansa flushing pleasantly though she attempted to be demure.

Sansa pulled Margaery eagerly over to her Mother and Sister after a round of applause. “Mother, this is Margaery.” Sansa announced, still sounding star struck, as though not believing she could actually be in a position to introduce Margaery Tyrell to someone.

For all that Catelyn Stark looked like Sansa while her sister, she presumed, took after their Father, the other two Stark women wore identical looks on their face at that moment; distrust. The Sister was more overtly wearing her dubiousness whereas it seemed that Catelyn was trying to politely hide it at least, clearly used to playing the game.

 _‘I will have to be careful with these two.’_ Margaery edged as she considered her plan.

*~*~*

“Awwww, that was lovely.” Margaery cooed at Sansa as they waved off the bus taking everyone to the hotel. “I’m surprised you’re not joining them.” Margaery questioning, her day spent in the Stark’s company making the surprise genuine.

“That was the plan originally; to stay in the hotel and go for brunch tomorrow morning but I got a job booked somewhat last minute and it’s an early start. You didn’t have to stay and offer to clean up, though. I’m exhausted, I’ll do it tomorrow!” Sansa groaned as she threw herself down on the sofa, closing her eyes.

 _‘Too easy.’_ Margaery thought to herself, smirking internally. _‘The poor little lamb won’t know what to do with herself. I’ll have to go slowly.’_ Margaery plotted as she casually flopped down on the cushions next to her. _‘She does have nice legs though.’_ Margaery conceded as she looked down the bare expanse of thigh and calf, admiring them for a moment.

Her eyes went back up to Sansa’s, mouth opening to give some sort of empty compliment when she realised that Sansa’s eyes were now open, staring at her openly, gaze heated. It stopped whatever empty words she had yet to speak and she just stared back, for the first time in living memory, unable to think of something to say.

In this instance, the unfamiliar conundrum was moot as Sansa did not give her much of an opportunity to speak before rolling on top of her, sealing her mouth to hers immediately and moaning.

 _‘Unexpected.’_ Margaery thought distractedly as her tongue automatically began its power play.

Sansa’s eyes were glazed with a mix of alcohol and lust as she pushed Margaery up higher on the sofa, lifting the hem of her dress confidently as she caressed her thigh, fingers clenching in the flesh as she settled herself in the cradle of Margaery’s hips, grinding.

Margaery tensed minutely, turned on but confused and it must have been obvious enough for Sansa to stop. “What’s wrong?” She panted, pulling back slightly, looking down at her in concern.

“Nothing, I just…” Margaery trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Sansa pushed herself away suddenly, like a startled cat. “Oh gods! Did I read this all wrong? I’m sorry! I’ve seen you go out with loads of girls as well as guys and it felt like you were maybe, kind of, flirting with me so I thought…Shit!” She cursed and it was the first time that Margaery had heard her swear in the twenty-four hours that she’d known her.

“No, I was. I was flirting with you.” Margaery rushed to clarify. _‘You were supposed to be flustered by it though, not **enjoy** it.’_ She thought, put out. “I just think that…maybe I misjudged you a bit and have gotten you all wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked innocently, breathing slowing down as she brought her legs up to rest beneath her and tilting her head like they were trading secrets at a sleepover.

“Girls in our business…they’re not nice, Sansa. Not like you.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous. You’re lovely.” Sansa enthused without a hint of irony.

“I’m really not.” Margaery argued, feeling shame flood her that she wasn’t the only one that seemed to have been operating under a skewed perception.

Sansa simply scoffed. “I’ve seen all the charity stuff you’ve done. You dish out at soup kitchens and you’re a spokesperson for children’s charities and you ran the marathon…” Sansa trailed off a bit when Margaery looked confused at the font of information on herself sat in front of her. Sansa pointed her thumbs back at herself, “Biggest fan.” She smiled, proud. “Those things make you sound awfully nice to me.”

“I didn’t know you were…gay…or bi, whatever. I didn’t think that my flirting would be reciprocated at all; I was just trying to mess with your head!” She admitted, trying to get her listen, to get her to _see_.

“Oh. You don’t wan…you don’t like me, then?” Sansa asked, looking like someone had kicked her in the stomach.

“Yes, I like you…and I want you even more.” Margaery flushed to admit, feeling a little nauseous as she realised it. “But I’ve spent the last day interpreting everything you’ve said and done like it was a challenge or a test and I think I may have possibly missed out on the truth of it.” Margaery confessed, downhearted.

Sansa bit her lip and pondered everything for a moment, eyes clearly analysing. She finally smiled and leaned forward, sweeping a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “In that case, you’ll have to have more of an open mind tomorrow.” Sansa smirked, leaning in to kiss Margaery again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to get a day ahead this week, which is good because I've been writing this for two days! Go figure!
> 
> This is the first time in this process that I've been like, _'Ah, this isn't how it really ends!'_ so I may expand this at a later time...maybe...possibly...
> 
> *WC68*


	16. Workplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 16. workplace
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Just in time!
> 
> *WC68*

"Sweetling."

 _'Eurgh. Vom!_ Sansa thought to herself, feeling nauseous. "Yes, Mr Baelish?" Sansa asked politely.

"It's Petyr, Sweetling. How many times must I tell you?" He simpered, smiling down at her.

"I'd rather keep things professional." She stated, sweeping her hands over her desk and looking down, annoyed at having to passive aggressively tell him, yet again, to keep his distance.

He said nothing, just tilted his eyes and stared at her intently, looking amused, like she'd said something adorable instead of something that essentially translated to, **'Back off, Perv!'**

"If you insist, Sweetling." Petyr chuckled. "Now, I've just received word that the Tyrell's are sending their Little Rose to speak for them today."

"Margaery?" Sansa squeaked, trying not to swallow her tongue.

"Yes," Petyr drew out, making her skin crawl, "and I'd like you to sit in on the meeting." Petyr announced, taking an uninvited seat on her immaculate desk.

"Me?" Sansa questioned, confused. "Why?"

"Well, if it had been Loras, I'd've brought in Olyvar." Petyr smiled his small, empty smile. At Sansa's lack of response, he felt the need to prod more to invoke a reaction. "I think you'd be _just_ to her tastes." He leaned in and whispered significantly.

Sansa looked down, flushing. "Mr Baelish, I'm not sure what you expect me to do but..."

"Do? Why, I don't expect you to _do_ anything, Sweetling. Just to be your normal, _friendly_ self." He chuckled.

*~*~*

Sansa sat the tray down on the desk, trying to pour the coffee without letting the clattering give away her tremors.

Baelish and Margaery sat silently while she poured, Margaery watching her as she took a seat off to the side, pulling out a pen and paper in an attempt to justify her presence. Margaery looked curious at her being there but did not seem particularly perturbed, smirking softly.

"Well, Ms Tyrell, shall we?" Petyr asked, his eyes clearly advertising that he felt that he had an advantage.

"Yes," Margaery answered simply, turning back to Baelish, crossing her legs as though she meant business, “we shall.”

The next fifteen minutes consisted of verbal sparring to a point where Sansa's eyes nearly crossed trying to keep up with it all until Baelish got a phone call.

"I'm in a meeting." He groused angrily but Sansa had seen enough of how Littlefinger worked to know that he did not let on if he was actually annoyed. "I'm sorry, I have to take this." He demurred to Margaery politely.

"Of course." Margaery replied evenly, sounding slightly bored, waving him away, not noticing the significant look that he gave to Sansa as he passed by her before leaving the room. They sat awkwardly in silence for a moment, Sansa purposefully avoiding the assessing stare she felt drilling into the side of her head. “He really chose the wrong person for this task.” Margaery commented with a laugh and a rueful shake of the head.

“Excuse me?” Sansa asked, brows pinched in confusion.

“Baelish. Trying to get _you_ to seduce _me_.” Margaery clarified, still looking amused.

Sansa attempted to inject the appropriate level of surprise into her voice. “Who said anything about-”

"Please! Littlefinger likes to think himself so enigmatic but he's as basic as any other man and oh so terribly predictable." Margaery summarised, looking around the room with a distasteful curl to her lip.

Sansa huffed out a breath, glad that she did not have to do anything untoward on the behest of Baelish but, at the same time, somewhat put out at Margaery’s amusement at the idea of Sansa seducing her. “I’m sorry.” Sansa declared.

“Sorry?” Margaery asked, forehead scrunched in confusion like the word was unfamiliar to her. “Whatever for?”

“I don’t know…because he was willing to use me against you like that.” Sansa answered, flushing deeper and shrugging her shoulders, lost at why Margaery was lost.

After a moment or so a soft, genuine smile crested over Margaery’s face, overlapping the confusion. “Well, thank you.” Margaery replied though it sounded more like a question than anything else. “I’m sorry too, that you work for someone who thinks it’s acceptable to _use_ you at all.” Margaery enthused earnestly, looking irritated yet righteous as she drummed her fingers on Baelish’s desk, purposefully smudging the glossy polish.

“Thanks.” Sansa smiled with a flush, looking down.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading your reports; thorough but concise.” Margaery smiled, turning to face the redhead properly again, leaning in as she spoke the compliment. Sansa said nothing. “Oh, come on! I can’t help but notice that since you began to sit at that desk, Baelish’s reports suddenly don’t solely consist of numbers that he’s picked out of the air randomly. Not bad for a secretary.” Margaery drawled, an underlying mocking in her voice.

Sansa’s back straightened at that, the red in her cheeks quickly changing in temperature from heated flush to simmering anger. “I have a degree in Marketing and Advertising from King’s Landing. I have a Masters in Economics from Oldtown. Last year, I worked with the Iron Bank during their biggest business acquisitions for over a century. I have studied under Tyrion Lannister, Tycho Nestoris and Archmaester Matthar. I am _not_ just a secretary.” Sansa finished her tirade confidently if not slightly haughtily.

“Then why do you work as one?” Margaery retorted, goading.

“The circle of hypocrisy; no one will give me a job without experience and I can’t get experience without a job.” Sansa answered simply, jaw tight at the moral injustice of such a system.

“I must admit that I’m impressed…but you need call a spade a spade, Darling. Here, you are a secretary.” Margaery spoke with a sad tilt of the head. “But if you were to seek employ elsewhere…” Margaery trailed off significantly.

“Are you…are you offering me a job?” Sansa asked confused.

“Yes.” Margaery answered simply.

“Oh.” Sansa replied thoughtlessly, looking down as she considered. “I don’t think I’d very much like to work for you.” Sansa replied as she stood and took a step forward.

Margaery stood in response stepping closer too, her face also now flushing in annoyance. “And just why would that be?” Margaery challenged, shoulders going back defensively.

Sansa bobbed her head from side-to-side, enjoying the brunette being flustered by her for a change. “Well, it would make it terribly awkward if I were to ever let you take me out.” Sansa replied, looking at Margaery with a smirk, trying not to let her nerves from attempting such a bolshie move on Margaery Tyrell show.

The anger seeped from Margaery’s eyes as she huffed out a laugh, looking Sansa up and down appraisingly. “Is that so?” Sansa nodded her affirmation. “Don’t you like to mix business with pleasure?” Margaery enquired, trailing a single fingertip up and down Sansa’s arm a couple of times.

“Sometimes…but not when it makes people question the validity of my achievements.” Sansa clarified firmly, her face serious now despite the slight, pleasurable shiver in her spine.

Margaery nodded, her eyes showing admiration as she let out a reluctant smile. “I respect that.”

Margaery turned back towards Baelish’s desk, pulling out a card keeper from her handbag, rifling through it for a moment. It seemed she found the one she was looking for before leaning over the desk slightly to write something on it, drawing Sansa’s attention to her hips.

Margaery turned suddenly, smirking at Sansa’s delayed aversion of her gaze before she held up a blank white card with Margaery’s elegant, cursive scrawl of her name and mobile number. Sansa smirked, feeling proud of herself as she lifted a hand to accept the card when Margaery flipped it, forcing Sansa to read the other side. “Varys was only saying to me the other day how he was desperate for someone with a head for numbers. There’s also the added benefit that it would drive Baelish to rage to realise he’d lost you to The Spider.” Margaery grinned wickedly, holding out the card still, face twitching when Sansa’s hand came into contact with her own. “Just call the number and I’m sure good things will be heading your way.” Margaery smiled smugly.

Sansa giggled at the double meaning, spinning the card significantly in her hand to advertise both sides. “I have no doubt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Margaery would make a good headhunter, I think...
> 
> *WC68*


	17. Friends to Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 2. friends to lovers
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to go back to a fluffy G for a chapter after a string of E's I reckon! ;D
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> *WC68*

Sansa couldn’t stop crying. Her shoulders shook, her nose was running and tears were falling down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away with the sleeve of her school jumper. “I thought he loved me.” Sansa whined pitifully, having to use the rest of the sleeves now to swipe at her tears as the edges had become saturated with moisture.

“Oh, Sweet Girl.” Margaery Tyrell, the Head Girl, sighed as she wrapped her arm around Sansa’s shoulders, pulling her tighter into her embrace. “Joffrey Baratheon is a fool and not worth a second of your sadness.” She cooed into Sansa’s ear before pulling out a beautifully embroidered, golden handkerchief, monogramed with the initials MT and offering it to Sansa.

Sansa looked up at Margaery from where she was sat on her desk in the history classroom, blue eyes wide and glassy and heart-breaking. “But I loved him! He was perfect for me.” Sansa argued pitifully, looking beseechingly at the older girl stood next to her. “He’s handsome, he’s on the football team, he’s rich, he’s from a good family-”

“He’s also cruel, sadistic, stupid, a ‘Mothers-Boy’ and likely to throw a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way.” Margaery interrupted, sweeping gentle knuckles over Sansa’s cheekbone as the redhead wiped her nose with the handkerchief.

“He’s the Head Boy!” Sansa refuted, expression scandalised, making Margaery laugh.

“Yes and it’s done nothing to better his personality.” Margaery rebutted coolly. Sansa still looked unconvinced so Margaery pulled her into her arms again with a sigh. “Sansa, trust me when I say, Joffrey Baratheon is not good enough for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Sansa asked, uncertain if she should take offence.

“Yes.” Margaery replied, pulling back, holding Sansa at arm’s length, hands squeezing her shoulders consolingly and looking deeply into her eyes. “Someone so…sweet and caring and loving and…special. Sansa, you _are_ special. A beautiful butterfly cannot be cared for with an indelicate touch.” Margaery smiled stunningly and it made Sansa feel as if a swarm full of said ‘beautiful butterflies’ were running amok in her belly.

“No…” Sansa trailed off, feeling herself flush at the compliment.

“Yes!” Margaery argued resolutely, unwilling as ever to be argued with. “I am the Head Girl, Stark. I know these things.” Margaery teased softly.

Sansa smiled for only a moment before her face began to crumple again. “I can’t believe he dumped me during lunch break!” Sansa uttered, disbelievingly. “I’ve still got to go to Music!” Sansa whined, feeling like she could start crying again at the thought of sitting in a classroom full of people who had seen her get publicly dumped.

“Well, how about I take you to get a milkshake or something instead?” Margaery offered, tilting her head and giving Sansa a fond look.

“We can’t do that!” Sansa balked. “You’re the Head Girl and I’m a Prefect! Besides, Mr Sevenstrings would go spare. He hates my Mum’s side of the family for some reason and I look so much like a Tully that it doesn’t matter that my name is Stark; he would tell the Headmaster for sure.” Sansa reasoned, miffed that Arya never seemed to get the same treatment from the unpleasant man.

“Well, Mr Sevenstrings will listen to me if I say that you are helping me out with a project for the student council…which you _are_.” Margaery nodded placating, words confident.

“I am?” Sansa asked with amusement.

“Yes…I’ll come up with something in the car on the way.” Margaery replied cheekily with a wink.

Sansa laughed before nodding her head, never able to refuse the older girl.

“Good girl. Get your stuff together then.” Margaery ordered softly. Sansa got her belongings together and put on her coat, walking to the door with Margaery. Margaery opened the door before hesitating, closing it again and turning back to face Sansa. At Sansa’s curious look, Margaery spoke. “Do you know what I think your problem is, Stark?” Margaery asked, leaning against the wall next to the door. Sansa blanched slightly, preparing herself for the answer as if preparing for a physical blow. “You’ve tried to peg your ‘type’ too early. We’re young but you’ve convinced yourself that the only person that could be right for you is someone who, on paper, is just like Joffrey. There are so many different types of people in the world, Sansa. If you have blinders on about who could be right for you, you’ll never even realise what you may have missed out on. Some women like tall men. Some women like short men. Some women like hairy men. Some women like bald men. Gentle men, rough men, ugly men, pretty men,” Margaery smirked, “pretty girls.” Margaery finished, looking at Sansa intently, making Sansa swallow deeply. “Just promise me that you’ll think about it, okay?” Margaery asked, tilting her head.

Sansa didn’t say anything, just considered Margaery for a long moment. She wasn’t really certain of what Margaery was saying, exactly. The air felt charged in that moment and Sansa wasn’t sure why.

Margaery was her friend. Margaery was her beautiful friend. Margaery was her beautiful friend who had had boyfriends and girlfriends in the past. Margaery was her beautiful friend who had had boyfriends and girlfriends in the past and was now looking at Sansa with an undercurrent of something unfamiliar yet powerful.

“Are you saying that I need someone with a…delicate touch?” Sansa asked and Margaery laughed, nodding her head emphatically.

“Yes, that’s exactly right.” Margaery smiled, seemingly pleased that Sansa had heard her.

“Do you...” Sansa croaked out an attempt at speaking before clearing her throat. “Do you have a…delicate touch?” Sansa asked, significantly, looking into Margaery’s amber eyes meaningfully.

Margaery smirked widely and the butterflies were back again. “It has been said before, Stark.” Margaery nodded again, voice deep and words slow.

Sansa nodded, not really sure of what to say in response when she realised that maybe words weren’t required for a response. She stepped forward hesitantly, eyes focused on Margaery’s face, focus flitting back and forth between her eyes and her mouth. Margaery did nothing, remaining completely stationary except for tracking Sansa’s movement with her eyes. Apparently, if anything was about to happen, it would be by Sansa’s instigation only. Sansa leaned forward cautiously, noting that Margaery still did not move, either to lean in or away, eyes challenging, telling her that she would have to go the whole way. Sansa huffed slightly, making Margaery giggle before she just sucked in a breath and pressed her lips firmly to the older girl’s.

Margaery’s hand came up immediately, cradling Sansa’s jaw softly and smiling into the kiss. Sansa couldn’t help but note how perfect Margaery’s lips were; not thick and wormy like Joffrey’s or overly wet like Harry’s, just…lovely.

Margaery pulled away all too soon in Sansa’s opinion, licking her lips and making the butterflies mutiny. She gave Sansa a fond smile and ran a gentle hand through her hair as if savouring something precious. “Come on, Sweet Girl. I’ll buy you that milkshake.” Margaery beamed, taking hold of her hand gently and pulling a giddy Sansa from the classroom after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been saving this one to possibly use in Tumblr's _Femtrope Bingo 2015_ but I think that the challenge was just too great to sign up for both things this year! Ah well, maybe 2016!
> 
> *WC68*


	18. Artist and Muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 4. artist and muse
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing a lot more of these from Margaery's POV than I would have anticipated...interesting. *ponders thoughtfully*
> 
> *WC68*

Sansa was stood at the kitchen sink doing the dishes, the yellow rubber glove she was wearing submerged in the soapy water nearly up to her elbows, face pinched as she struggled to banish the dried out food stains from the plates they’d eaten dinner off of the night before. Sansa hated to leave the dishes until the next day but Margaery had been convincing that there were other things that they could spend their evening doing.

The sunlight was hitting her superbly through the kitchen windows, setting her hair aflame, making it look as though it was touched by fire, causing her alabaster skin glow, almost ethereal, and Margaery couldn’t help but…

**_CLICK_ **

Sansa jumped slightly and turned her focus to Margaery, face morphing into a mocking look of disbelief whilst still smiling reluctantly. “Really?” She challenged softly.

“Really.” Margaery confirmed with a smirk, considering the photograph on the digital display of her camera happily.

“Couldn’t you take a picture of me when I’m looking a bit more…glamorous?” Sansa asked with a shrug of her shoulders, swiping a glove over her overheated brow, leaving a trail of suds in its wake, accidentally gifting her point with more gravity.

“Well, _I_ can’t help what you’re doing when you take my breath away.” Margaery argued softly, enjoying the flush that rose up onto her girlfriend’s cheeks as she shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“You are so full of it.” Sansa giggled, stacking the plates off to the side and looking pleased.

“My adoration for you? I know. Just terrible, isn’t it?” Margaery smirked wickedly, shaking her head as though rueful.

Sansa let out a reluctant chuckle but did not respond, choosing to finish off the cutlery instead, no doubt conceding mentally that Margaery would not be deterred in her playful teasing by Sansa continuing to spar with her; it would instead result in Sansa inevitably and unintentionally fuelling her with more ammunition, as it always did.

A long moment passed where neither spoke, Sansa focusing on her chore and Margaery focusing on her love. “You know,” Margaery started as she stood, Sansa knowing her well enough that her back straightened at her tone, bracing for more distracting flirtation, “if you want something a little more glamorous…” Margaery cajoled, moving Sansa’s arm so that Margaery was caged in by her, caught between Sansa’s body and the counter she now leaned against, “…you never look more glamorous than when you’re nude…in my bed.” Margaery whispered, pressing the words directly into the skin of her neck while pressing wet kisses there, making the redhead shiver noticeably.

“I’m not doing that.” Sansa stated firmly but her voice was affected, panting slightly. Margaery said nothing, just continued showering her neck with kisses. “And the _neck thing_ won’t sway me this time.”

Margaery purred into her neck, wrapping her arms around Sansa hips and making her sway slightly with her, as if dancing. “I don’t know _what_ you mean.” Margaery replied innocently, still nuzzling her throat.

“Of course you don’t.” Sansa snarked, tone dubious. Margaery heard the snapping of rubber behind her back as Sansa took off her gloves before her hands started to gently comb through Margaery’s golden-brown curls, blue eyes considering her intently.

“Don’t you trust me?” Margaery goaded, looking up at her girlfriend with wide, innocent, amber eyes, nibbling on Sansa’s jaw gently.

Sansa hesitated, face twitching in agitation. “You are an artist, Love; artists like to showcase their art and I don’t fancy being up on a wall in some gallery.”

“Oh, Sansa!” Margaery smiled genuinely but face looking almost pitying, as if Sansa had said the most naïve thing. “You already are.” She declared on a whisper, holding Sansa’s chin between her fingers. “You are my muse. You are in every piece of art I’ve ever showcased.” Margaery announced with the true intensity of her feelings that she normally tried to restrain.

Sansa’s gorgeous lips started to quiver and she couldn’t meet Margaery’s eyes, looking down at their feet instead. The brunette forced her chin upwards again, smiling at her beautiful, blushing girlfriend before kissing her deeply and softly. Sansa sighed into her mouth, melting like butter already as her finger’s tightened in Margaery’s hair, causing her to let out an unintentional groan.

Margaery broke the kiss and leaned back, grinning, as always, when Sansa’s lips followed blindly as if magnetised to her own, unable to resist their attraction. Sansa’s eyes were gone, clouded and darkened by lust and Margaery knew how this would end. “I tell you what,” Margaery started, tone declaring a concession of some sort as she broke free of her lovely Sansa-cage, “I’ll go first.” Margaery offered, handing Sansa her camera which she accepted without thought.

Sansa looked confused for a moment, considering the camera as if it were a strange piece of futuristic technology that she had no comprehension of until Margaery began to unbutton her top slowly, walking backwards through the flat, heading towards the bedroom.

“How does that sound?” Margaery pressed with a raised eyebrow as she dropped the blouse to the floor, bare from the waist up now.

Sansa nodded slowly, clutching the camera to her chest like a shield as she followed docilely yet eagerly behind her girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Margaery making Sansa cage her in' bit is from _Orphan Black_ , Cosima and Delphine. Loved it so am giving it a nod; Marge would _totally_ use that move!
> 
> *WC68*


	19. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 27. family ties
> 
> Sansa/Margaery  
> Minisa Whent/Olenna Tyrell
> 
> [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not certain if this is what 'family ties' means but I liked the idea so...
> 
> *WC68*

“Hello, Minnie.” The voice came from behind her, making Minisa’s eyes close in pleasure at hearing the familiar, deep, lilting voice again. She turned slowly, attempting to utilise every fraction of a second in order to prepare herself before coming face-to-face with the love of her life again.

It was only when she looked at Olenna that she realised just how much time had passed since they had seen each other last. _‘At least thirty years; Edmure had only been a babe.’_ Olenna looked much as she always had but there were notable changes; she was stooped slightly which made her appear shorter, her face had been weathered by the blazing sun of The Reach and her fingers were curled painfully, gnarled by arthritis but she still carried herself the same, still had the same mischievous expression on her face and eyes that made you think she knew more than she should. It was all too easy to see the girl she had once been in the lines of her face.

“Lenna.” Minisa smiled, heart aching with the beautiful pain of reunion.

Her arms itched to lift and wrap around her tightly again but she was not so certain that she could easily let her go if she did. They were also in a crowded room of their peers and eyes were always eager and assessing in the Capitol.

Olenna clearly did not share her fears, leaving caution behind, as it always was when they were together, the shorter woman raising her arms and pulling her into a firm embrace, hand sweeping over her back with a venerating tentativeness.

“Lenna,” Minisa moaned, closing her eyes for only a moment, smelling her familiar scent, “people can see-”

“Let them. They would not suspect. People would not think such things of old crones like us; affairs are for the young.” Olenna joked, pulling back and running a hand down her arm with more tenderness than anyone else would ever think her capable of.

“How are you? Who are you here with?” Minisa asked, eager to get off the topic of affairs.

“Mace’s two youngest. They have the potential to go far, those two; my Margaery especially.” Olenna announced, smile small but proud.

“I met her.” Minisa announced with a grin. “She is the moral of you at that age, only with lighter hair. She walked straight up to me, confident as anything, and said that she hoped I could introduce her to my grandson this evening.” Minisa told her friend, shaking her head slightly in disbelief at the raw confidence in a girl who was only Eight-and-Ten.

“The heir, I take it?” Olenna smiled shrewdly.

“Who else? She has your eye…and ambition, I see.” Minisa rose an eyebrow at Olenna with a smirk.

“Yes, my _tastes_ also I'm afraid.” Olenna put in with a significant look at her, smile fading slightly. “I think that she is eager to resist it by finding a match quickly.” Olenna confided.

Minisa threw her gaze out to the dancefloor and found the beautiful girl dancing with a lad that could have only been her brother for all that they looked a mirror image of each other.

“Maybe time has moved on enough that the young won’t have to face the same choices that we did.” Minisa said hopefully, ever optimistic.

“We are not there yet.” Olenna put in pragmatically, casting her eyes to her grandchildren also. “There are still challenges to face and hard decisions to make.”

A pregnant pause followed as they both thought back on the challenges and decisions that they themselves had made. “I was sorry to hear about Luthor. I wish that I could have made it to Highgarden for his funeral but Hoster’s health is failing him slowly these days.” Minisa explained, trying to gage Olenna’s attitude to the topic.

“He was a stupid man but sweet; I was fond of him. In truth, he was no great love of mine.” Olenna pronounced, eying her meaningfully. “But then, you already know that.”

 _‘She always was so ridiculously fond of playing these games in public.’_ Minisa thought, fondly frustrated, looking away to collect herself.

“Grandmother!” Margaery called out, approaching the two of them with a beaming smile in place. “Lady Tully said that she would introduce me to her grandson, Robb; won’t that be _fabulous_!” Margaery enthused with a conspiratorial smile at her Grandmother.

“Indeed, My Sweet.” Olenna pacified, sharing a smile with Minisa.

“What are your plans for the Summer, Margaery?” Minisa asked politely, unable to stop staring at just how similar she was to Olenna, right down to the way she told a story and her insightful, amber eyes.

“Grandma!” A voice called behind them, making the three of them turn. Sansa, her eldest granddaughter was making her way towards them, eagerly, holding up the bottom of her dress so that it would not drag. Sansa had been begging and pleading with Catelyn and Ned for months to let her join her dear, old, grandmother on her trip to the Capitol for the annual Ball for the aristocratic families of Westeros. Hoster was insistent that Minisa attend as a representative of House Tully to keep up appearance with his health declining as fast as it was and her granddaughter was only too eager to volunteer her company. Robb and Cat were also present to represent House Stark so Sansa had flown south with them after wearing down her Mother enough to fully convince her that, at Six-and-Ten, she was old enough to attend. “Grandma! Isn’t it so _glamorous_?!” She asked, clutching Minisa’s hand tightly in her own with excitement, her sapphire blue eyes wide with wonder as she looked around at the affluence in the room.

“Yes, Sweetheart.” Minisa smiled, kissing her on the cheek, the highest part of her tall granddaughter that she could reach. She wrapped an arm around Sansa’s waist, holding her close. “Sansa, this is my old friend Olenna Tyrell and her granddaughter, Margaery. Ladies, this is my beautiful granddaughter, Sansa.” Minisa beamed proudly, sweeping Sansa’s hair from her now blushing cheeks.

“By ‘old friend’, she is clearly referring to the length of time that she has known me as opposed to anything else.” Olenna drawled as she held out a hand to shake Sansa’s, looking almost as affected by the sight of Sansa as she supposed that she herself had appeared at meeting Margaery. Sansa giggled happily in response with Minisa at the quip.

Sansa turned to Margaery with an open smile, holding out her hand for her. Minisa couldn’t help but notice that Margaery appeared somewhat taken aback, eyes wide and focused on Sansa intently as she started to stutter…she didn’t have Margaery pegged as a stutterer.

“Uhh…yes…hello…I’m Margaery. And, your name?” Margaery introduced redundantly, taking Sansa’s hand in her own and shaking it slowly.

Sansa smiled courteously though she looked confused. “Sansa.” She answered, politely not making reference to the re-introduction.

“Sansa. That’s…beautiful.” Margaery smiled softly, still not letting go of Sansa’s hand, allowing her thumb to rub over the back of it thoughtlessly.

Sansa flushed deeper and bit her lip, looking Margaery up and down quickly. _‘Too quickly, the girl probably thought, to be noticed.’_ Minisa thought uncomfortably.

Minisa sent a nervous look towards Olenna who looked torn between being concerned and amused. Margaery had seemingly also noticed the assessment as her shoulders went back confidently and she smiled widely. “Have you seen the garden’s yet, Sansa? They are quite spectacular. Not as good as Highgarden’s of course but we won’t hold that against them, will we?” Margaery smirked wryly, beginning to pull Sansa along by the hand without waiting for a response.

“Uh…no, no, I’ve not seen them yet.” Sansa now stuttered.

“Well, shall we?” Margaery offered, lifting a hand to Sansa’s back, leading her away from Minisa and Olenna without a word.

“Wait!” Minisa croaked out but was not loud enough to be heard as they had already begun to steadily walk away…or just chose to ignore her. “Should we stop them?” Minisa asked Olenna desperately.

“How?” Olenna asked drily.

“I don’t know!” Minisa balked, hoping for a plan to work from rather than need create one of her own.

“I don't know about yours but _mine_ is the most stubborn creature on two legs that I've ever come across; if I push she will pull.” Olenna declared adamantly, watching after the two of them.

Minisa sighed, resigned. “Sansa is a sweet girl but she is not easily convinced when her mind is set.” Minisa admitted, thinking about earlier when Cat had told her of how un-relentless Sansa had been when requesting to come for this visit.

“Then it is best to just leave the chips fall where they will.” Olenna replied with a small shrug, turning back to her look at her now that the girls were out of sight.

“Aren't you worried that history may repeat itself?” Minisa asked with worry, wringing her hands in agitation.

“Worry of such things suggests that I have regrets…” Olenna argued quietly, laying a hand on Minisa’s to stop their action, looking at her straight in the eyes, “…and I do not.”

Minisa sighed but said no more, looking out towards the direction of the gardens though she could not see them through all of the other guests. _‘I just hope that, if it comes to it, things will be easier for them.’_ Minisa thought hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was a bit different and Sansa/Margaery weren't as focal this time around but we have nine more to go; never fear. ;D
> 
> *WC68*


	20. Student and Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 19. student and teacher
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early entry in the day for Chapter Twenty to ensure that I have time to update **The Surrogate** later!
> 
> Not as seedy as it could have been....I hope.
> 
> *WC68*

The brunette girl was sitting at the front again, smirking at her as she chewed on her pencil, gaze never leaving Sansa as she valiantly attempted to continue her lecture on the themes of _Love_ and _Revenge_ in Emily Brontё’s, _Wuthering Heights_.

“Without _revenge_ serving as such a predominant theme in the book, Wuthering Heights would have been nothing more than a run of the mill, thwarted love story. It was darker than any other love story at the time which is why it is still considered one of the greatest, darkest and most tragic love stories today.” Sansa looked at her watch and noted that she had run exactly to time. “So, any questions from the floor today?” As expected at the last lecture on a Friday afternoon, silence loomed. “Alright, thank you everyone. The grades from your first assignments have been submitted through the intranet. Have a good weekend.”

The scrape of desks and chairs followed as everyone eagerly left the room. Sansa couldn’t say that she wasn’t relieved herself. This was her first teaching position and so far there had been no major dramas except for the excessive amount of time spent of planning the lessons, marking the assignments and learning the computer systems in place at the University.

_‘Speaking of…’_

“Uh…Ms Tyrell?” Sansa called out loudly to be heard over the din in the room. “Margaery Tyrell.”

“Yes, Professor.” A voice answered and, when Sansa looked, she saw that it belonged to the brunette…the pencil fellating brunette. _‘Balls!’_

“A word, please?” She requested politely.

The girl, Margaery, strode up to her desk like the classroom was a catwalk, taking a seat on her desk without invitation, skirt riding up.

 _‘Mother of the Gods!’_ Sansa swore to herself, biting her lip as the room cleared. _‘I cannot get sacked in my first month. I cannot get sacked in my first month. No fraternisation. No fraternisation!’_

“So, what can I do _for_ you, Professor Stark?” Margaery asked, tilting her head as she swung her legs from where she was seated on the desk.

“Well, Ms Tyrell…um…it’s just a small admin issue. I can’t find you on the intranet for the registered list of students taking this module.”

“Oh.” Margaery replied, face a mask of surprise. _‘Maybe too much surprise.’_ Sansa thought to herself absently.

“It’s not a problem, really. I just couldn’t submit your grade through the intranet so I needed to physically return your paper back to you.” Sansa clarified as she stepped up to her desk, rifling through her messenger bag, trying not to stare at Margaery’s thighs that were right in front of her, bare and tempting.

 _‘Filthy, filthy pervert!’_ Sansa chided herself, disgusted.

She finally found the paper between her laptop and notebooks, pulling it eagerly from the bag and handing it to Margaery. “Well done.”

“An A. Whoa! Thank you, _Professor_.” Tyrell purred, tilting her head downwards so that she looked up at Sansa through her dark, long lashes.

 _‘Please stop saying ‘Professor’ like that.’_ Sansa pleaded internally, biting her lip. “No need to thank me. You deserved it. You have a very firm grasp and astute view of the material.” Sansa praised with a small smile.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you.” The brunette whispered conspiratorially, leaning in closely to Sansa, allowing the redhead to smell the girl’s flowery perfume. “I took a similar module the first time I went to Uni.”

“The first time?” Sansa asked, surprised, not taking her for a dropout.

“Yes. I tried my hand at it straight out of school but opted to travel for a few years instead. It felt like it was the right time now though, to try again. So, you got me!” Margaery announced, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m a _mature_ student.” She smiled wickedly.

 _‘Mature student? That’s a lighter shade of morally grey then, isn’t it? It definitely makes me **less** of a pervert….No! No, Sansa!’_ Sansa admonished herself.

“Well…it was still a good paper.” Sansa finished somewhat awkwardly, tapping her hands together, waiting impatiently for Margaery to get up and leave.

“So,” Margaery began, crossing her legs at the knee, “what’s your story?”

“My story?” Sansa asked, swiping her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, you seem…young.” Margaery smirked.

“Well, I’m older than you.” Sansa clarified firmly, starting to pack up her belongings in an attempt to distract herself, annoyed that anyone could look so good in a skirt, hooded sweatshirt and sandals.

“Not by much.” Margaery argued, looking her up and down pointedly.

“By enough.” Sansa finished.

Margaery did not argue further, pushing away from the desk and walking over to Sansa, standing right next to her, no space between their bodies. “By enough for what?” She asked smugly. Margaery leaned in closer, sweeping a lock of red hair from her cheek and curling it behind Sansa’s ear again. “My, my, my, Professor. Where has your mind gone to?” Margaery teased in a faux-chiding tone.

“I…I don’t know what you-” Sansa began to argue, flushing at having talked herself into trouble.

“Oh, there’s no harm in it. We’re both grownups. I’m not your stereotypical naïve, University student, you know.” Margaery teased, putting her hand on her hip stubbornly. Sansa looked down at the girl’s pink sweatshirt with ‘Highgarden Sorority’ printed across the chest, her hand going up without conscious thought to pull at it significantly with a raised eyebrow. “Well…not completely. There’s got to be at least one token stereotype in the mix.” Margaery shrugged it off, leaning in to kiss her with a smirk.

Sansa pulled back automatically. “I…I can’t get fired.” Sansa argued, trying to ease away from Margaery though she had nowhere to go as she had essentially been pinned in by the sorority girl.

Margaery shushed her, cradling her face delicately and swiping thumbs across her reddened cheeks. “You won’t get fired, I promise. I can be discreet.” Margaery cajoled on a whisper, leaning in again but Sansa pulled back in resistance though not away completely. Margaery sighed and took a step back, giving Sansa some space and looked into her eyes calmly. “Sansa,” Margaery started, dropping the titles, “I’ve wanted you since the second I saw you at the coffee shop in my induction week. Grande mocha, no sugar, whipped cream, extra dry, skim milk and lemon syrup, right?” Margaery smirked.

Sansa was slightly overwhelmed at the confession, forced to acknowledge that maybe Margaery wasn’t just after some bad imitation of a _Bloomington_ scenario.

Margaery ran a hand through Sansa’s hair again, playing with the ends slightly, staring at her intently, heatedly. Sansa sighed and this time when Margaery leaned in ever so slowly, Sansa did not pull away. The first kiss was short; a quick brush of their lips. The second was longer, ending in Margaery swiping her tongue along Sansa’s lower lip. The third consisted of Sansa losing all of her self-restraint, breathing in deeply as she held Margaery’s head still and pushed her tongue in the other girls mouth, making her moan deliciously. Sansa spun them around so that Margaery was pressed against the desk now, pushing on her hips slightly as a silent order to jump up and sit on the desk again; an order which she obeyed. Margaery’s hands were skating all over Sansa’s body, alternating between clutching and caressing, making Sansa feel hot all over. Her hands went to the zip of the girl’s jacket, fingers impatient.

“You’ll have to drop my course.” Sansa ordered, trying to hold on to the last scrap of morality she had as she released the zip from the chain, letting out an agonised moan when the material separated to reveal the girl’s bare chest.

“Don’t worry; I never signed up for it.” Margaery panted as she threw the jacket aside, forcing Sansa’s lips back to her own before the older woman could respond, pulling her down to lie on top of Margaery on the desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose that Margaery as the older, experienced teacher and Sansa the naive but eager student would have been the natural choice but I decided to go in a different direction.
> 
> Also, just to check, at the end did y'all get that Margaery was never signed up for the class and therefore never technically Sansa's student? Just that, she knew Sansa that was teaching the course so went to the lectures and submitted a paper so that she could spend some time with her and pick her moment? Is that clear? I hope so!
> 
> *WC68*


	21. Language Barrier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 23. language barrier
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter what direction this starts to go in, I want you to remember one thing...BREATHE! 8^|
> 
> *WC68*

Margaery could barely feel the mare beneath her thighs for all of the layers that she had on but she was enjoying the experience of riding her horse through the snow immensely. It was the first time that she had ever been further North than the Westerlands and she was savouring her first ever experience of snow whilst her family visited Winterfell.

For all of her enjoyment, her beautiful, brown mare, Majesty, was struggling with the constant need to wade through the frozen drift so Margaery thought to return to the castle soon.

"Let us race!" Loras proclaimed, smile wide and eager from where he rode alongside her.

"No, Loras, Majesty is tired." Margaery refused, patting along her steed’s mane comfortingly as she huffed, exhausted.

"Oh, is that the excuse you give, Sister? Are you certain that it is your mare that is tired and not her rider?" Loras teased, with a smirk.

"I am not tired, Loras." Margaery argued, bored with her brother's teasing and allowing it to show in her tone, refusing to let him elicit the reaction that he wanted from her.

"Scared then?" He goaded, smirk smug.

"I am not scared!" She argued hotly, losing her patience.

"That is good to hear. I shall see you back at Winterfell then!" He laughed, riding off like a flash, his steed forcing its way through the snow easily, as if the high drifts were merely blades of grass.

"Loras! Wait!" Margaery called after him, encouraging Majesty onwards only for her to slow again after a short moment, unable to keep pace and Loras was quickly lost from her sight. "Fool!" She swore harshly, trudging slowly through the snow, knowing that it would be close to sundown before she returned to Winterfell at this pace.

The bite in the air was getting sharper as the afternoon drew on so Margaery distracted herself with thoughts of the foods she would gorge herself on when she got back whilst submerged in a hot bath when she heard a loud yell a split second before she was suddenly jarred from her horse.

She cried out in surprise before she landed in the snow, a heavy weight on top of her. Majesty began to neigh in terror before she found a burst of energy great enough to flee.

_'No!'_ Margaery thought desperately, the weight on top of her not allowing her the breath to speak.

A deep voice began to spit out a string of hard sounding words that she didn't understand, terrifying her.

She was flipped over onto her back and came to face with a smirking man with blackened teeth, pinning her down and speaking the same rough tongue over his shoulder which is when she noticed the other two men with him. The three conversed for a moment, seemingly debating something before some sort of agreement had been struck, the man on top of her turning back to her with a darkened, hungry smile and she suddenly knew what was about happen.

"No!" She yelled desperately, attempting to turn onto her front and claw at the snow to scramble away.

The man just laughed, flipping her back over easily, grabbing her hips and pulling them into his roughly.

_'This cannot happen. This cannot happen!'_ She thought in a numb panic.

The man started to fumble with the furs at his groin and Margaery’s mind went blank. He started to coo something to her, blanked teeth smiling as he leaned forward when his eyes went wide and something warm that tasted like copper splashed across her face, making her close her eyes reflexively. When she opened them again, she saw the arrow that was sticking out of the side of his neck before he slumped off of her, dead.

The other two became alert at that, the taller man drawing a dagger and the shorter one, a spear, looking around in agitation. They began to call out to the falling snow as they swivelled around, trying to get a glimpse of their attacker.

Another voice shouted out in return, speaking the same harsh dialect but the voice was higher and softer, clearly belonging to a woman.

Margaery looked around too and saw a girl dressed in heavy furs, calmly walking through the snow towards them, a bow held in her hand, red hair braided tightly to her head.

A conversation followed that Margaery could not understand; the men were angry and the woman relaxed.

After a few moments of conversing, the shorter male got fed up, charging through the snow at the girl with a battle cry. The girl stood her ground until the last second, swerving before delivering a firm kick to the man’s gut, disarming him easily in his winded state and knocking him to the floor. The taller man stampeded forward, blade held high above his head, yelling out his outrage. The girl was still composed, waiting until the last second to swing the spear in a wide, calculated arc, opening the man’s throat, blood spraying in a geyser as he fell, deforming the perfect, white snow beneath.

The shorter man began to flee, his short legs not affording him a swift escape. The girl walked up to the fallen body, took the blade still clutched in the dead man’s hand before she threw it surely, the blade burying itself in the man’s back. He fell with a cry. The blade had obviously made contact but the layers of furs had denied it being a fatal blow. The man wailed long and loud as the woman calmly approached from behind.

He seemed to beg as she approached, trying to convince her of something; her face remained unmoved. Without ceremony, she removed the blade, making the man yelp in agony before she held the spear over the man’s back and drove downwards with a grunt, breaking through his ribs to where his heart would have been.

The silence was deafening.

The woman turned towards her slowly, considering her intensely.

Margaery began to panic, fearing that she was about to share the same fate.

She tried desperately to push the dead man's weight from herself as the woman slowly approached with the same deadly calm as she had the others.

Margaery was just about to scream when the girl went to her knee, pushing away the corpse that had been pinning Margaery to the snow.

Margaery gratefully scrambled a few feet away attempting to catch her breath while the woman just stared.

A tense moment passed before the Wildling sheathed the blade in the ties around her waist and moved forward slowly. Margaery was hypnotised, unable to move or make a sound as the girl moved gracefully forward, motion smooth and powerful like a shadowcat. The girl gathered a handful of snow and lifted both hands to Margaery’s face, one hand steadying her jaw gently as the other rubbed the snow smoothly along her skin. Margaery was confused but said nothing despite the shocking numbness of the ice on her exposed face.

After the process was repeated, Margaery suddenly realised what the girl was doing when she tasted the coppery tang of blood as the snow was wiped over her mouth, cleaning her face.

"Thank you!" She burst out suddenly, making the girl flinch at the sound. "I am sorry but thank you! You saved my life! How can I ever repay you?" Margaery enthused genuinely, smile queasy but wide as she registered how close she had come to death.

The girl only scrunched her brow and tilted her head slightly, appearing not to understand.

"Oh. Do you...do you not speak the Common Tongue?" Margaery asked thoughtlessly, noting that the Wildling’s expression did not change at all. "Okay then. Well, I am Margaery. Margaery Tyrell." Margaery introduced.

The girl's entrancing, wide blue eyes remained equally confused.

“Margaery. Mar-jeh-ree.” Margaery enunciated slowly, pointing at herself significantly and raising her eyebrows.

“M…Mah-j-ree.” The girl repeated, confused.

“Yes, yes!” Margaery smiled, clapping her hands happily. “And you?” Margaery asked, pointing towards the redhead with an encouraging expression.

“And yoo?” The girl repeated again.

“No, no, no.” Margaery waving her hands and shaking her head. “Margaery.” Margaery pointed at herself again.

“Mar-j-ree.” She repeated.

Margaery smiled and nodded before pointing her hands towards Sansa.

The girl was silent for a long moment, deep blue eyes studying Margaery intently. “Sansa.” The girl declared slowly.

“Sansa?” Margaery smiled, considering her knight in furry armour as she nodded, braided, red hair swinging. “That is beautiful.” She whispered automatically without intending to do so.

The girl smiled in response, the fierce warrior melting away for just a moment and a beautiful girl taking her place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one going to kill me? Oh good! ;D
> 
> *WC68*


	22. Supernatural Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 25. supernatural creatures/powers
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Love this prompt but too many possibilities!
> 
> Struggling to post this before work so sorry for any glaring errors!
> 
> *WC68*

"I dare say that I have made my position on the Starks abundantly clear!" Daenerys boomed across the fields where people where bowed in fear. "If you see one, they die!" She clarified, purple eyes manic as she considered the crowd.

"Alayne, I am scared." Margaery choked out, grabbing her lover's wrist in desperation.

"Do not be afraid." Alayne smiled back encouragingly, blue eyes soothing as she stroked a gentle hand over Margaery’s.

"However," The Queen continued her rant, "it seems that I have not been clear enough as I have received word that Highgarden harbours one!"

"Your Grace, we are not aware of any Starks residing in Highgarden." Her father, Mace, defended, perspiration on his face as he considered the tyrant and the few men that she had brought with her.

"Then that makes you incompetent rather than disloyal. Congratulations!" The Queen snapped back, making Mace wilt in submission.

"I could raze the crops! Maybe that would encourage whoever is hiding her to hand her over." She goaded maniacally as she continued to stalk back and forth.

"But the crops provide food for the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms." Margaery argued before she could stop herself.

The Queen turned her sharp eyes upon her but Margaery refused the back down like her Father has, despite her fear.

"Yes they do," Daenerys agreed, twirling her hand and summoning a fistful of fire, "so someone had best confess quickly." A collective whimper went out from the gathered people, some burying their heads in their hands, not able to watch another act of Targaryen madness. "No?" The Queen teased, walking closer to the crowd, making them recoil. "Mayhaps the destruction of crops lacks the proper incentive?" She asked before going silent.

No one spoke.

The Queen suddenly spun on her heel, throwing a blaze of flames right towards where Margaery stood in the crowd.

Margaery closed her eyes as she felt Alayne grab her arm but then nothing came: no heat, no burning…if anything, she felt a chill.

She heard gasps from the crowd which is when she opened her eyes. Alayne was stood with her body shielding hers, arm held up and a wall of ice separating then from the Queen.

"Ah, Sansa." The Queen drawled and Margaery could all too easily imagine her madly vacant smirk on the other side of the wall.

Alayne pushed Margaery away harshly, straight into the waiting arms of her brother, Loras, before she walked away from the crowd and towards the Queen.

“Alayne!” Margaery called out desperately but her love did not look back and Loras only held her tighter as she struggled.

“Being a brunette does not suit you, my friend.” Daenerys teased, eyes hungrily considering the prize that she had left the Capitol for.

“As tyranny does not suit you.” Alayne argued back coolly.

Daenerys smirked an angry smirk at Alayne before looked off to the side and nodded at one of her men. “Jorah…take her!” The Queen commanded, her hairy, beast walking forward obediently.

“You disappoint me, Daenerys.” Alayne mocked, shaking head as she circled the Queen.

“Is that so, Stark?” The Queen asked in disbelief, seemingly enjoying the back and forth.

_‘Stark? Why is she calling her Stark? Her name is Stone. My Sweet Alayne Stone, not Sansa Stark.’_

“It is. You send your bear to do what you fear you cannot?” Alayne goaded with a smirk that Margaery did not recognise on her beautiful face.

“You think that I fear you, Stark?” Daenerys seethed, charging forward.

“It would certainly be clever of you to do so…so it would not surprise me if you do not.” Alayne deadpanned.

“You always were _so_ witty.” The Queen sniped, anger plain on her face.

“And you were always so compassionate! What happened? You threaten to butcher your own people? Destroy their livelihoods and for what? For me?” Alayne asked, gesturing to herself in disbelief.

“Do not be so surprised that I would long to have you home with me, Sister.” Daenerys enthused.

At that, Alayne’s face pinched and darkened in anger. “I have only ever had one sister…and you killed her.”

_‘Alayne is an only child. The bastard daughter of a lord of The Vale and a commoner.’_ Margaery thought, confused.

“Oh, is that what this has all been about? Arya?” Alayne’s back tensed at the name. “I gave her plenty of chances, did I not? You saw! She was too wild and needed to be put down.”

Alayne looked the angriest that Margaery had ever seen her, fists shaking with it. “And what of Rickon and Bran? Were they too ‘wild’? Did you give them plenty of chances?!” Alayne screamed back. “Rickon was no more than a babe and Bran a cripple. What possible harm could they have done you?”

The madness seemed to seep from her eyes slightly at that, looking the closest thing to guilty that Margaery had ever seen her. “There could be no male heir to challenge my reign.” The Queen attempted to soothe, eyes pleading Alayne to understand her warped logic.

“Mayhaps it is not merely male heirs that you should have feared.” Alayne rebutted coldly.

“What? You?” Daenerys laughed cruelly. “You are a prisoner of The Crown!” She screamed, madness filling her eyes again.

“You used to at least have the decency to dress it up as _a ward_!” Alayne yelled back, shaking her head as she considered the Queen that was no more than a mad girl who had used to be her friend. “Your madness has taken you, Daenerys…just like your Father.”

“Do not speak about my Father!” Daenerys roared, throwing flames at Alayne. Alayne ducked and rolled, avoiding the fire as the crowd screamed. Alayne released a frost from her hands and made it into a trail of ice, gliding along it like a swan, away from the crowd. The Queen let out a manic scream and brought her flames forth again, this time using them to shoot herself after Alyane like a cannonball.

_‘Alayne is luring her away.’_ Margaery realised in the same moment that the Queen’s men did.

“Wait! Your Grace!” Her bear shouted but his Queen was gone and he was left with only a few soldiers against a crowd of angry Highgardeners that had been threatened for the last time.

Garlan and Loras raised their swords and charged, followed by the knights that were sworn to house Tyrell. Margaery was not so worried about this battle as everyone screamed and the commoners ran away. The Queen brought a pitiful few in numbers as her retinue, so reliant on her conjured fire to rule through fear as opposed to sword.

Margaery began to run, following the trail of ice that Alyane had left, seeing the glow ahead of the Queens flame and praying that Alayne was alright.

When she finally caught up with them, Alayne was on her knees, frost and flurries surrounding her, coming from her hands as the Queen bore down on her, fire shooting from her hands directly at Alayne. Her lover’s face was scrunched in a grimace, tortured scream tearing from her throat as the heat began to overtake her.

“Alayne!” Margaery called out desperately, moving forward.

Alayne’s eyes darted up to her own, somehow managing to look even more agonised. “Stay back!” She ordered, voice rough with exertion.

“You should have stayed in the Capitol, Sansa.” The Queen lamented almost regretfully as she took the final step forward, bearing downwards with a blinding flash of fire.

Margaery could not see through the blinding light but then suddenly she heard the agonised screams of the Queen and the flames started to ebb enough for Margaery to make out a beautiful, ice sculpture kneeling in front of the Queen, grabbing her wrists and turning them to ice. “And you never should have left.” Alayne declared as she stood, the ice overtaking the Queen’s entire form now, her screams dying as the ice covered her face, expression frozen in agony for a only a second before Alayne kicked forward, shattering the Queen’s image.

The moving, ice figure stood silent, panting for a moment, breath visible in the warm evening air before turning back to Margaery. Margaery stumbled forward in disbelief and the figure moved towards her too. As she got closer, the ice melted away slowly to reveal skin and hair and clothing and Margaery was face-to-face with her Sweet Alayne again. As soon as Margaery was close enough she threw her arms around the other girl, holding her tightly.

“Alayne! You are alright. I do not understand. She called you ‘Sansa’.” Margaery spoke quickly, adrenaline and fear still running rampant through her body.

Alayne did not respond for a long moment, just holding Margaery close. “I am sorry I lied. I was running for my life when we met.” Alayne explained, running a hand through Margaery hair like she always did, causing Margaery’s eyes to close in pleasure.

“So…you are Sansa Stark then?” Margaery asked, still disbelieving.

“Yes.” Alayne…Sansa declared solemnly.

“And…the Queen is dead?” Margaery turned her head to look at the collective chunks of ice that had previously been the Queen.

“Her madness was too great to overcome.” Sansa explained, looking conflicted.

“She would have killed us all!” Margaery agreed, holding Sansa’s face in her hands, sweeping her thumbs over her cheeks. Sansa grabbed her hands tightly and nuzzled her face into them, eyes closed as she breathed deeply. “You…you can take the throne now.” Margaery realised.

Sansa’s eyes popped open suddenly, expression making it clear that she had not considered such a thing. “I…I do not know if-”

“It will not be long before word spreads of what has happened here.” Margaery cajoled softly, still stroking her thumbs along Sansa’s jaw. “Anyone might take it if you do not decide quickly.” She enthused desperately.

Sansa was silent, considering, before looking up at Margaery again.

“Would you come with me?” She asked, wide blue eyes, the same as always, breaking her heart with their uncertainty.

“Of course, My Love. Where else would I be?” Margaery asked with a smile. Sansa smiled in return, leaning in to capture Margaery’s lips soundly. They kissed giddily for a moment before Margaery pulled back. “You will be a great Queen, Sansa.” Margaery announced with confidence.

Sansa let out a small moan of pleasure at that, closing her eyes and biting her lip. “I like hearing you call me by me real name.”

Margaery smiled, swiping Sansa’s apparently fake brown hair behind her ears. “It suits you better, Your Grace. My Sweet Sansa.” Margaery confessed, leaning in again to have her Queen’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for any errors! I really struggled to meet the deadline today and settle on just one idea!
> 
> The _"You should have stayed in [blank], [name]" "You never should have left!"_ part is from **X-Men:The Last Stand**...a good part of an otherwise terrible movie!
> 
> *WC68*


	23. Literary Inspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 21. literary inspiration (crossover, AU, etc)
> 
> *WC68*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorting your favourite characters into Hogwarts Houses is fun! =D
> 
> *WC68*

"Where's your loyalty?!" Robb pressed from across the table, hands digging into the wood of the table in aggravation, a disgusted look on his face.

"I have plenty of loyalty-" Sansa began to argue whilst calmly buttering her toast before Robb interrupted.

"Well, it's split!" Robb argued petulantly. "I can't believe it's the Quidditch Final, my last one _ever_ , and you're wearing that!" He pointed, face full of disgust as he gestured towards her green and silver scarf.

"I'm wearing a Gryffindor hat." Sansa argued, nodding her head towards the scarlet and gold woolly hat on the table next to her plate.

"The scarf's bigger." He grumped, face buried in the crease of his elbow where it rested on the table.

Sansa rolled her eyes and shared a disbelieving look with their brother Jon who was sat at the table too, polishing his broom before the match.

"Maybe you should remember that I'm not _actually_ in Gryffindor or Slytherin, therefore, I do not automatically owe either my loyalty." Sansa argued reasonably, gesturing to her own blue and bronze gloves, also resting on the table.

 _'Don't they realise and appreciate how much of a fashion disaster I'm making myself look with all these mismatched colours in the name of neutrality?'_ Sansa thought to herself, feeling slightly resentful at the lack of appreciation her efforts were getting.

"Merlin's hairy ballsack! You got Miss Ravenclaw-Logic going off on a tangent!" Arya swore as she snuck up behind them, stealing the immaculately buttered and jammed slice of toast from Sansa's plate and biting into it before she could protest.

"I'm your brother," Robb enthused earnestly, "and I'm in Gryffindor, _therefore_ , I should automatically get your loyalty!"

"Well, Arya's in Slytherin and she's my sister so your logic is somewhat counterintuitive." Sansa refuted nonchalantly, grabbing a new piece of toast, patiently starting the intricate buttering process again.

"I don't remember you ever supporting Slytherin before just because _I_ was in it." Arya argued with a mouthful of toast from where she was perched on the table next to Sansa and opposite Robb. "I wonder _what_ is so different this time around?" Arya mocked sarcastically, tilting her head as if considering deeply.

_'Sod! I let you have my toast!' _Sansa fumed in her head.__

__"It's Arya's first game." Jon intervened calmly, well averse in defusing sibling bust-ups before they started. "Sansa's supported us exclusively in every non-Ravenclaw game for the last five years; you can't blame her for cheering someone else for once."_ _

__"And it's joint-cheering!" Sansa threw in quickly, eager to keep the momentum going now that she finally had someone on her side._ _

__"And it's _still_ not because _I'm_ playing." Arya shot down, unmoved by Jon's calm argument._ _

__Before Sansa could argue back, someone else joined them. "Morning, Starks." The Head Girl jumped up to sit on their table next to Sansa, snatching her piece of toast calmly and taking a large bite._ _

__Sansa banged her clenched fists on the table, one still holding her butter knife. "Do the Slytherin females have sort of vendetta against me eating breakfast?" Sansa asked, frustrated._ _

__"I don't think it's exclusive to the females." Arya deadpanned in return, popping the last bite of her own stolen slice into her mouth._ _

__Sansa took a deep breath, building herself up to snap back when Margaery held her piece of toast near Sansa’s mouth in invitation. Sansa flushed, very aware of her siblings surrounding them but, nonetheless, leaned forward and slowly took a bite from the offered bread._ _

__Margaery smiled widely, wiping a small blob of jam from the corner of Sansa's mouth with her thumb before bringing it to her own mouth to lick away innocently._ _

__Sansa thought she may pass out from the blood rushing from her head and straight to her face but Margaery carried on as though it were nothing._ _

__"So, what were we talking about?" Margaery pressed, easing herself seamlessly into the conversation, as was her gift._ _

__"Your girlfriend's lack of loyalty." Robb glowered darkly, considering his nemesis and opposing team captain from across the table._ _

__"She's got plenty of loyalty...it's just committed to those on this side of the table." Margaery smirked, gesturing to herself and Arya._ _

__Robb's ears bloomed redder but Jon just laughed as he packed away his broom servicing kit._ _

__"Are you ready to seek head-to-head against your Big Brother?" Jon asked Arya softly, smirking gently._ _

__“Totally!” Arya enthused but Sansa could detect the slight quaver in her Sister’s voice at the thought of going up against Jon, Jon who had taught her how to fly, how to play, how to seek._ _

__“The truth of it is,” Margaery began, twirling a lock of Sansa’s hair around her finger’s thoughtlessly, “it doesn’t _really_ matter how things go today between Arya and Jon. The seekers can only win the game when the teams are within one-hundred and fifty points of each other…which, sadly, isn’t going to be the case.” Margaery smirked at Sansa, apparently not even needing to look over her shoulder to know that Robb was going a horrible shade of red._ _

__“You think so, Tyrell?!” Robb snarled, taking the bait._ _

__“I know so, Stark.” Margaery answered seamlessly. “That boulder on a broom that you have for a Keeper has no chance against my fellow chasers and I.”_ _

__Arya seemed less than impressed by Margaery’s description of Gendry but stayed quiet for the sake of winding her brother up. “And your Beaters are slow and predictable.” Arya goaded innocently, stating the opinion as if her brother wasn’t one of them._ _

__“I’m almost going to feel bad for them, Little Stark.” Margaery lamented remorsefully, turning her big, brown, doe eyes to Arya._ _

__“It _is_ going to be embarrassing.” Arya nodded her head resolutely with a pitying expression on her face._ _

__“Come on, Jon! Let’s go run some drills!” Robb growled, pushing himself away from the table roughly._ _

__“It’s a bit late, Robb! It’s not going to help you now!” Arya called after him, laughing wickedly._ _

__Jon stood from the table, smiling at their teasing, finding it all rather humorous. “I’ll see you out there, Little Sister.” He said before wrapping his arms around Arya tightly, mussing her hair with a laugh when he pulled back before running after Robb._ _

__“Well, see you out there, Cap.” Arya mock-saluted Margaery as she stood, kissing Sansa’s head quickly before her sister could register it and running away before she could comment, presumably heading off to find Boulder-Boy before the match._ _

__“Are you ready?” Sansa asked, smiling at her girlfriend somewhat soppily._ _

__“Absolutely. We’re going to win. It’s my final year and I will accept nothing less than winning the Quidditch Cup _and_ the House Cup for Slytherin.” Margaery said with a level of confidence that always made Sansa a little jealous and a lot flustered._ _

__“It’s Robb’s final year too and he wants the Cup awfully bad.” Sansa argued gently, playing devil’s advocate._ _

__“Then he’ll have to fight me for it.” Margaery purred, leaning into kiss her softly._ _

__Sansa broke the kiss quickly, very aware that they were in the Great Hall and everyone could see them._ _

__Margaery smirked at her shyness but did not comment on it. “Shall we then, my Beautiful Cheerleader?” Margaery enthused, standing up._ _

__“Lets.” Sansa smiled in return as she stood, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand before they made their way down to the pitch together, side-by-side._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As soon as I saw 'literary inspiration' I was like, "Harry Potter BITCHES!", all the way! I was trying to think, 'What dramatic, mid-war situation can I put them into?' but then I thought, 'You know what? They have enough of a rough time in Westeros. I'll give them a break at Hogwarts.' =D
> 
> I wouldn't be such a big reader if I hadn't have had Harry Potter when I was younger so _Thank You, JK!_
> 
> *WC68*


	24. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 18. music
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [T]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been thinking about something completely different for this prompt but then this idea came to me yesterday and I ran with it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> *WC68*

### First

Margaery took out her phone without consciously deciding to do so, as was her habit, checking her e-mails and her social media accounts while she waited for Alla to arrive. Her cousin wanted her help with picking out a dress for the younger girl to wear upon meeting her boyfriend’s parents for the first time but Margaery was a little early so she waited under the clock in the Town Square.

She considered calling Megga or Elinor to distract herself for five minutes while she waited for her cousin to arrive when she heard a beautiful singing voice being carried by the wind. She looked around, intrigued at the pleasant noise when she saw the girl. She had long red hair contained in a braid that was slung across her right shoulder, was a wearing a grey cardigan, jeans and pink converses, holding an acoustic guitar across her thigh as she strummed a soft melody, accompanied by her lilting voice. Margaery could just about make out that the girl had her eyes closed behind her spectacles as she sang, a couple of people dropping coins into her open guitar case as they passed.

She hadn’t heard the song before but the girl’s voice was near hypnotic.

Margaery hadn’t consciously made a decision to move but her foot had just taken its first step towards the girl when Alla spoke from her right.

“Hey! Why are you always early? It makes me feel bad!” Her cousin chastised, pulling her into a hug quickly. At Margaery’s lack of reply, Alla prodded, “Hey. You alright, Marge?” Her cousin asked concerned, brows creased.

Margaery suddenly snapped back to reality and let out a small laugh to reassure her cousin. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just a little out of it today.” Margaery lied easily, smiling wide.

“Oh, okay then.” Her sweet, younger cousin believed her easily, smiling back happily. “Let’s go then. The shop I want to check out first is down here.” Alla started, linking her arm with Margaery’s and leading her away from the busker. Margaery did not resist her cousin’s hold but looked over her shoulder at the girl until the crowd separating them became too big to make her out anymore.

### Second

 _‘Why are they **always** bloody late?’_ Margaery thought to herself, annoyed beyond belief, tapping her foot impatiently on the concrete slab beneath her. _‘Useless! The lot of them!’_ Margaery added angrily.

Their train to King’s Landing left in less than half an hour and the girls _still_ hadn’t arrived with the taxi. When Margaery had been called into work last minute that morning, she had been doubtful at Alyce’s soft reassurance that they would pick her up in town on their way to the train station. _‘Apparently, they don’t need me to drill sergeant them to leave on time for things anymore. Hah! I’ll be ushering them out of the door at my own sodding funeral.’_ Margaery thought darkly, looking at her watch again in agitation before comparing it to the clock looming over her to double check that it was right.

She looked around to give herself some sort of distraction from obsessively tracking the time when she saw the redheaded busker. She was setting up outside of the record shop again, this time pulling out a violin from her case. Margaery looked around cautiously, up and down the road for an oncoming cab and, upon seeing none, she gave up, deciding that the distraction would be good for her heart. She rolled her suitcase for Elinor’s Hen Weekend behind her, trying not to stand out too much considering the girl was only now setting up and didn’t have a crowd for her to blend into yet, deciding to lean half hidden behind a lamp post.

The girl took her time in setting up, tuning her instrument with care before she flicked her hair over her shoulder and began to play. She vaguely recognised the melody as a piece of classical music, one of many that her Grandmother played constantly throughout the day in her parlour.

The girl didn’t sing this time but Margaery couldn’t feel too aggrieved as she played her other instrument impeccably. Margaery closed her eyes, getting lost in the piece, enjoying it more than she ever had before when listening to it in her Grandmother’s parlour when suddenly a car’s horn began to honk, obnoxiously and repeatedly.

“Marge! We’re going to miss the train! Come on, let’s go!” Megga’s voice boomed loudly through the Square, making Margaery turn around. Her cousin was half-hanging out of the door to the taxi, gesturing to her wildly to come along.

Margaery automatically looked back to the girl who had valiantly continued to play despite the interruption but found her looking directly at her, a small smirk on her face as if she thought the whole thing humorous. Margaery felt her face heat up slightly, made all the worse due to the scornful and disapproving looks from the small crowd that the busker had now gathered.

“Sorry.” Margaery mouthed, embarrassed, though she wasn’t certain of who in particular she was saying it to as she turned tail and ran for the taxi.

### Third

 _‘Willas is **so** hard to shop for!’_ Margaery lamented to herself as her feet ached, having been shopping for the last several hours without the entirely necessary tea or lunch break.

The last possibility that she had was a new CD for a band he was keen on so started to make her way to the music shop.

She physically stumbled when she saw the Beautiful Busker Girl again, set up outside the shop like before, this time holding a small harp in her hands, plucking the strings delicately while her soft, high voice complimented it perfectly.

 _‘You cannot get distracted, Margaery! We are on a deadline!’_ She chastised herself softly, already feeling the pull of her siren song. Despite the ‘good telling to’ she gave herself, her feet slowed and she ended up stood next to the girl, listening with eager ears. She realised suddenly that it was the third time that she had listened to the girl play and had never once put a coin in her case. Margaery was standing close enough with no crowd that her presence was horribly obvious so quickly began to root through her bag for her purse. She scanned the contents of the case and saw a collection of copper coins; not wanting to stand out as being too keen, Margaery opted to put in a handful of the most valuable copper coins. As she went to drop the copper stars into the case, she saw a sign that she’d never noticed before, propped up in the girl’s case.

**Thank you for your donation to the _Brandon Stark Disabled Children Foundation_. Your generosity is greatly appreciated.**

_‘Oh, come on! Could this girl **be** any more perfect? Why, Beautiful Busker Girl? Why?’_

__“Thank you.” The girl smiled softly up at her from her perch when her song finished._ _

_‘BBG has amazing eyes.’_ Margaery thought to herself, almost in disbelief, silently christening the girl with the new title. 

__“Oh…yeah, yeah. Of course…” She started to stutter, veering off when she saw a man from the corner of her eye bring the stand from the music store into the shop. “Oh, no, no, no, no! Wait.” Margaery called out, rushing to the front of the shop. “Oh, please, I just want to get one thing.”_ _

__“Sorry, Love, we’re closed.” The hulking man with burns on his face told her firmly._ _

__“Oh, please!” She begged, turning on the look that often got her her own way with strangers. “I know exactly what I want. I won’t be a moment.” She spoke softly, looking up at him from under her eye lashes._ _

__“Sorry.” He replied, sounding bored, about to close the door in her face._ _

__“Oh, come on, Sandor. Don’t be such a grouch.” BBG teased him with familiarity, smiling charmingly. “You’re not _technically_ meant to close for another five minutes anyway, so…” She trailed of significantly, raising her eyebrows in challenge._ _

__The man, Sandor, huffed, annoyed but opened the door wider again. “You’re a pain in my arse, Little Bird.” He groused towards the redhead. Margaery was about to be offended on Busker Girl’s behalf but the girl just smiled wider to the point of excess in order to counteract his ire._ _

__She smiled in thanks at BBG as she entered the shop to which the girl silently nodded in response._ _

__Five minutes later, when Margaery left the store with her CD for Willas, Busker Girl was gone._ _

### Fourth

__“Oooof!” Margaery stumbled slightly before being caught by Alysanne, laughing madly._ _

__“Too many tequilas, little girl?” Merry ribbed her, laughing hard._ _

__Margaery ignored her, cuddling Alysanne’s neck and kissing her cheek repeatedly as Alysanne tried to gently pry her arms away, cooing, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”_ _

__“Come on, you hot mess! We’ll get some food in you to sober you up a bit.” Merry smiled, hooking her arms under Margaery’s ribs and dragging her along._ _

__Margaery was trying very hard to stay upright as Alysanne and Merry shepherded her down the main street. Through the pounding in her head left over from the heavy bass of the club, Margaery could suddenly hear a piano playing and looked around. “Oh my gods! BBG!” Margaery called out happily before she started to run off eagerly towards her, ignoring the worried calls of her friends. “Hey!” Margaery welcomed with an enthusiastic wave as she pulled up next to her._ _

__“Hello again.” The girl replied, smiling happily as she considered Margaery’s state carefully, fiddling with the keyboard in her lap._ _

__“What’a you s’hinging next?” Margaery slurred, leaning in closely._ _

__“I’ve not decided yet.” The girl smiled widely, now eying Merry and Alysanne who came to a rapid halt next to her._ _

__“Marge! Don’t run off, you tit!” Merry scalded her, worry, as always, causing her to lose her patience more easily._ _

__“Do’ya take requests?” Margaery questioned, unmoved by her friend’s scalding._ _

__“Maybe…” BBG smirked, drawing the word out in a teasing manner, “…depends.”_ _

__“Wolf in the Night?” Margaery asked hopefully._ _

__The girl raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. “I don’t get requests for that one often. The crowd at this time normally wants something a little more…karaoke-esque.” She bit her lip to reign in her smirk. “You know that that one is traditionally sung by men, right?” The girl asked as a warning, fingers getting ready to play the piece._ _

__“Men don’ do anything fa’me.” Margaery announced with a dismissive wave of her hand._ _

_‘DOUBLE MEANING ALERT!’_ Margaery thought to herself, laughing out loud in response. 

__“Okay then.” The girl conceded with a tilt of her head, fingers moving over the keyboard confidently._ _

__Margaery swayed drunkenly, smile wide and vacant, her eyes closed until the last note hung in the air._ _

__“Tha’ was…tha’ was…” She came up short, unable to settle on just the right word._ _

__“I’m sure the ends of these sentences sound good in her head.” Merry stage-whispered to Alysanne and BBG._ _

“Shut it!” Margaery snapped back, not wanting to be made to look a fool in front of her future wife. _‘I don’t want to look cheap, either.’_ She realised, fumbling for her purse immediately, making it rain a variety of coins into the case. 

__“Whoa, whoa!” The girl called out, trying to catch the downpour._ _

__“You still need to get home, Margaery.” Alysanne reasoned, accepting the coins back from Busker Girl._ _

__“I’ll walk!” Margaery announced dramatically. “She’s _so_ good, ‘aint she?!” Margaery questioned her two friends, earnestly._ _

__“Yes, she’s very talented.” Alysanne placated, trying to get Margaery’s arms into her jacket without any assistance from her at all._ _

__“Come on. Let’s go before you end up offering to give her more than a stag in her case.” Merry announced with a fond smile, pulling Margaery away and down the street with Alysanne on the other arm._ _

__“Bye BBG!” Margaery yelled at the top of her lungs, leaning her head back to ensure that she was heard…by everyone in the postcode, it seemed._ _

__“Ummm…bye?!” Her somewhat confused but gentle voice returned._ _

### Fifth

__Margaery hung back, waiting until BBG had finished the deep, heart-wrenching piece before she approached her slowly._ _

__“Cello today, huh?” Margaery asked awkwardly as she approached the girl, the collection of coins in her case illustrating that she had been playing for a couple of hours already._ _

__“Yep. Good afternoon, Margaery.” BBG smiled widely, making Margaery’s legs wobble slightly at the combination of seeing her smile and hearing her own name spoken through those lips._ _

__“I owe you an apology, I think.” Margaery approached swiftly, feeling contrite._ _

__“You do?” The girl asked, looking genuinely confused. “Why?”_ _

__“My friends inform me that I was a bit…rambunctious last night…or this morning?” Margaery edged carefully._ _

__“Oh,” The girl laughed, waving it off dismissively, “not at all. You should see some of the stuff I see in this Square after dark.” BBG leaned in to whisper to Margaery as if it were a secret._ _

__Margaery let out a laugh, glad that she hadn’t offended her at all. “Good! I can’t really remember too much but apparently I was making a fool of myself in front of the Beautiful Busker Girl who plays in the Square so I thought I should-”_ _

__“In front of who?” BBG interrupted, smiling mischievously whilst her cheeks began to glow red._ _

__“B…Beautiful Busker Girl.” Margaery answered, coughing to hide her embarrassment._ _

__“Is that my handle?” The girl laughed softly._ _

__“Well, that’s _my_ handle for you, yes.” Margaery answered honestly, shrugging her shoulders slightly with false nonchalance._ _

__The girl looked at her for a long moment, considering her carefully before she nodded her head slightly. “BBG?” The girl guessed, smile getting wider despite her teeth biting down on her lip, presumably in an attempt to tame it._ _

__“Ummm….yeah…” Margaery trailed off, feeling embarrassed._ _

__“Thank you.” The girl smiled, gorgeous blue eyes flitting down Margaery’s body for only a split second before returning to her face; quick enough for Margaery to wonder if she’d imagined it. “But still no apology required.”_ _

__“I’ll stop apologising if you have a coffee with me.” Margaery charged forward, not able to wait another second to see just how far off base she was._ _

__The girl flushed deeper, chuckling slightly as she looked down, fingers fidgeting over her bow for a moment. “Well, in that case, I guess you leave me no choice.” She smiled widely._ _

__“Guess not.” Margaery smirked in response, not believing her luck as BBG collected her take for the afternoon and packed away her instrument._ _

__Margaery felt a little guilty as she watched the girl heft the heavy looking case over her shoulder, feeling unchivalrous for not offering to help but not fancying falling flat on her back and struggling like a turtle to get upright again either._ _

__“So…” Margaery started as they walked down the high street, side-by-side, “do you go by anything else other than BBG? Maybe something a little less formal? Something not used _just_ by your fans?” Margaery teased, enjoying the girl’s laugh._ _

__“My name is Sansa.” She clarified, meeting Margaery’s eyes squarely as she said it._ _

__Margaery held out her hand as if to shake Sansa’s, eager for any excuse to touch her. “Nice to know you, Sansa.”_ _

__Sansa took the offered hand and shook it slowly. Margaery enjoyed the juxtaposition of how soft the skin on the back of her hand was compared the harder, roughened skin of her fingertips. “You too, GLF.” Sansa smirked as she powered on, the strides of her long legs leaving Margaery behind slightly as she herself pulled up short._ _

“Wait! What does _that_ stand for?” Margaery called out as she chased after her, enjoying Sansa’s giggles. 

__“I’ll tell you later.” Sansa threw over her shoulder with a wink and a smile, continuing onwards._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm preempting the question...Gorgeous Lurker Fan!
> 
> Would still love to see what y'all thought it might be though?
> 
> *WC68*


	25. Historical AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: historical AU
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World War I/II Era but still with Westeros geography.
> 
> *WC68*

War. A World War. Countries from every continent raising arms against each other. Sansa did not think that such a thing could be possible but that is reality of their lives now.

The South was an easier target for the enemies planes; it was more metropolitan in the South, bright lights, clear skies and denser populations that made for more desirable targets.

Many families sent their children North as refugees to save them from the blitz attacks. Her Mother had signed them up immediately to take in children, welcoming the distraction from the situation that they now found themselves in. Over the last couple of years they had housed a number of children from the South but from the beginning until now they had always had the twins from Highgarden, Loras and Margaery. Loras was angry when they had first arrived, eager to enlist and sign up like his older brothers, Willas and Garlan, had and angrier still when Willas had been sent back, crippled by a grenade.

Sansa's father had served as a soldier in his youth so when the call came out he went willingly. He had been gone for around a year when they received the telegram. Her Mother was inconsolable. Her brother Robb, enraged. Her sister Arya, bitter. Bran and Rickon, too young to understand fully. Sansa didn't have time to feel anything; her role was to keep everything together as everyone else let themselves fall apart. Sansa didn't think that she would have been able to make it through that first week without Margaery holding her hand, squeezing her shoulder or hugging her silently, wordlessly lending her strength.

Robb had signed up not too long after their father passed, despite their Mother's desperate pleas to the contrary. Their half-brother, Jon, had enlisted soon after their father, not feeling comfortable living in the house with her mother without their father's presence, not feeling welcome or wanted. Robb had wanted to go too but had listened to the combined wishes of their parents before their father had left, however, their father’s death had birthed a seething rage and desire for revenge in her older brother that her mother's begging would not taper.

When they brought home Robb's body, Sansa couldn't handle it anymore, being strong for everyone else so she ran from the house, ran from her Mother's wails and Rickon's yells and Bran's tears.

Margaery did not leave her alone for long before joining her in the treehouse that their Father had built for them when they were children.

"I am so tired, Margaery." Sansa announced wearily, too exhausted to even wipe away her own falling tears.

"I know." Margaery replied, lifting her hand to wipe Sansa’s tears away.

“I am not strong enough to do this. I cannot be strong for everyone all of the time.” Sansa stated, defeated.

“You do not have to be strong for _everyone_ all of the time.” Margaery countered, coming around to sit in front of Sansa. “You will be strong for as long as you can stand and then you can come here and _I_ will be strong for _you_.” Margaery soothed, sweeping a lock of Sansa’s auburn hair behind her ear, cradling the back of her head and sweeping her thumbs soothingly across her cheeks.

Sansa let out a sniffle and managed a weak, watery smile in response. “You would do that for me?”

Margaery smiled at that, a smile that was wide and fond. “There’s nothing that I would not do for you, Sansa.” Margaery replied.

Sansa took in a breath and it felt like the first one that she had taken in a long while. She leaned forward at the same moment that Margaery did. This kiss felt different from all of the others that they had secretly shared before now. This one held no fear of being discovered by their families or anxiety about doing such a thing with another girl or shame for giving in to the temptations of lust; this just felt _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [THREE TO GO]
> 
> A shorter one today, the shortest one so far in fact, but I did everything I wanted to do with it so...
> 
> *WC68*


	26. True Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 28. true love
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not allowed to countdown as I've been told it's depressing/scary and when people speak, I listen! ;D
> 
> *WC68*

**My Dearest Margaery,**

**You no doubt know that I have escaped King's Landing and have not yet been captured by the Gold Cloaks or the King's Guard for my _role_ in the assassination of King Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name.**

**Apparently, acting alone or possibly in collusion with my Lord Husband, Tyrion Lannister, I have held an integral part in conspiring to kill the King…and succeeding. I cannot lie; I have not mourned the King's passing. Joffrey was cruel and heartless and the Kingdoms would have suffered greatly under this rule. Tommen is a sweet boy but that is all he is; a boy. He is not equipped to play the Game of Thrones, especially when set against such dangerous players.**

**I apologise, Your Grace. Where are my manners? News has reached me of your upcoming nuptials to the newly crowned King.**

**I congratulate you.**

**I must confess to feeling slightly foolish. You were always so little concerned with your marriage to Joffrey, never discussing passed the wedding itself and I now realise that this is because you _knew_ that you would not have a marriage with him passed the wedding. The Purple Wedding they are calling it, did you know? I suppose it helps to make me look even guiltier, the parallel quickly reminding everyone of my motive, the fate of my Brother and Mother at the Red Wedding. When you told me not to concern myself with such worries regarding your union as the wedding drew closer I had considered that you might have had some sort of plan in play but I had never considered that the motives for your soothing and cooing was to keep me from fleeing the Capitol before your nuptials. After all, how would your plan have gone without your scapegoat?**

**What a clever ploy, to distract a silly little bird with such a pretty and shiny necklace.**

**As I say, it all makes perfect sense with hindsight; such perfect clarity that I feel foolish beyond belief. Mayhaps you had only taken me for a lover to keep me close and compliant as you tightened the noose around my neck. I suppose that I will never know for true; after all, this game is filled with much more skilled liars than myself, yourself included.**

**I now see the hard and bitter truth; no one is kind to you without something to be gained, naivety can be as deadly as a blade and there is no such thing as _true love_. Such childish notions need be left behind if I am to survive. I suppose that I should thank yourself and the Queen Of Thorns for teaching me this most valuable of lessons. Should we ever have the pleasure of crossing paths again, I shall endeavour to show you both my gratitude in full.**

**Regards,  
Sansa Stark**

 

"Well?" Margaery asked, voice wavering.

Olenna looked up at her granddaughter from the parchment that she had given her. "Well, we are lucky that this was not intercepted." Olenna stated casually, throwing the letter down onto the table.

"Is it true?!" Margaery shrieked, noting her Grandmother's surprise at her loss of composure. "Did you frame her for Joffrey's murder?" Margaery asked softer this time, voice rife with disbelief.

Olenna paused for a long moment, eyes focused on her granddaughter. "Yes." Margaery let out a shocked breath at that, seemingly unable to believe the truth. "It was plausible. She had the greatest motive to want the King dead and Littlefinger wanted her."

"Wanted her for what?" Margaery queried, nauseous at the thought of what that vile man could want with her Sweet Sansa.

"I did not ask." Olenna answered plainly, appearing unmoved by Margaery's obvious concern. "He must have her with him now though. No one else knew the particulars that were not merely loose ends to be cleared up."

"You knew how I felt about her. How I still feel." Margaery declared stiffly.

"Apparently you _feel_ for her more than she does for you; she _threatened_ you at the end! Did your sad eyes miss that?" Olenna asked, annoyed that they were still discussing this.

"She thinks that I betrayed her! That I had a hand in your plot!" Margaery squawked indignantly, voice wavering.

"You would have if I had been able to trust your judgement." Olenna retorted.

" _My_ judgement?!" Margaery asked, aghast

"Yes! _Your_ judgement! You were getting sloppy, my girl. Careless. You would have put us in a compromising position eventually so I made a pre-emptive move. I know you and I know it is easier to remove the cause than alter the reaction." Olenna argued dispassionately.

"That is all you have to say?" Margaery asked sadly, tears falling silently down her cheeks. "You do not feel at all conflicted for what you have done to me?" Margaery asked her grandmother earnestly.

Olenna's face finally wavered at the sadness on her granddaughters face, swallowing uncomfortably and breathing deeply. "I did it _for_ you." Olenna enthused, eyes pleading with her to understand even if her mouth never would.

"No. You did it for yourself." Margaery argued, tears still falling heavily though she held her head high as she turned and walked silently from the room.

"Margaery. Where are you going? Margaery!" Olenna called after her but the only reply was the door closing firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have ideas for all of the other prompts now, so I wrote this one, which was originally going to be the letter only, because I didn't want to end on a downer but then I wrote Margaery & Olenna and don't think it ended up as _too_ depressing. Finishing at the letter would have just been 'Sansa hates Margaery now'.
> 
> And where is Margaery going? To ride off to the Vale and rescue her fair maiden? Out to the gardens to think or back to her room to have a proper Disney Princess throw yourself down on the bed and cry? I'm not telling. Your own interpretations of the character will answer that for you as it did for me! ;D
> 
> *WC68*


	27. Fairy Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 6. fairy tale
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [G]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go on Wikipedia entry for 'List of Fairy Tales'...there's some seriously messed up fables out there!
> 
> *WC68*

Margaery walked from the party, taking in deep gulps of air in relief to be free from the stuffy and oppressive ballroom full of people clambering for her attention. There was no one else out on the veranda, just her, fanning herself and taking deep pulls from the glass of arbour gold that she had secured from a passing waiter as she had made her escape. _'Grandmother will not be happy.'_ Margaery thought to herself seriously, thinking of her grandmothers earlier clear warning to keep away from alcohol as Margery worked the room, before she started laughing hard and loud, taking another eager gulp.

Margaery slowly meandered down the veranda and through the labyrinth that was the Family Gardens, the ones that Margaery could navigate with her eyes closed. Her family had thrown every eligible suitor in the Kingdom at her this evening but, unsurprisingly, none had piqued Margaery’s curiosity or her adore, only her indifference, as had all other men before.

She took a seat on one of the benches as she considered her favourite part of the garden, softly setting down her now empty glass. She closed her eyes and finally felt at ease; whether it was the fresh air, the solitude or the alcohol, Margaery wasn't certain but she was enjoying it immensely.

Suddenly, Margaery felt something peculiar and wet on her arm, causing her to jump in alarm. Her eyes popped open of their own accord and looked down to see a large but beautiful, silver-grey wolf. Margaery could not get the required amount of air into her lungs to scream, choosing to stay absolutely still instead. The wolf whined slightly, butting her nose against Margaery’s arm again and then licking it, seemingly wanting attention like any other dog.

Margaery let out a short, relived laugh on an exhale, slowly raising her arm in an exaggerated manner so as not to startle the beast before placing her hand on her head. When she did not lose her hand, Margaery began to massage her fingers into the fur gently, making the great, hulking beast purr and nuzzle deeper into her hand.

Margaery laughed again, bringing up her other hand the cradle the wolf's head as her petting became firmer and more confident. "You are not so terrible, are you?" Margaery asked in surprise, laughing at herself for talking to a wolf but not caring in the least. The wolf stepped in closer, pressing her furry body closer to Margaery's in eagerness.

"Margaery?" A voice called out behind them and the wolf tensed, growling low.

"Shhhh." She soothed, stroking along the wolf's body, noting with concern that beneath the thick fur the animal felt thin and underfed. "It is just my cousin.” Margaery explained easily. “Yes Megga?" She called out louder to assist her cousin in finding her.

Her cousin came around the corner and balked, looking terrified. "I will go get help!" She yelled before she started to run back towards the castle.

"Wait! I do not need help!" Margaery called after her. She would have gotten up to chase after her cousin but the beast’s head was in her lap, pinning her slightly with its heavy weight.

Thankfully, Megga popped her head back around the corner cautiously. "You do not?" She asked, both confused and terrified.

"No. She is just a pretty little puppy, are you not?" Margaery cooed excessively, to soothe her cousin. If the wolf had had eyebrows, she would have raised one at the girl, however, she managed to look unimpressed without any so Margaery stroked under her ears, making the animal’s eyes close contentedly. "I promise, Cousin, I am fine. But my friend here is nearly meat and bones. Go get me a plate of food for her please."

"Do you jest?" Megga asked, face disbelieving.

"No! She is hungry!" Margaery argued adamantly. Megga did not move. "Please?" Margaery asked, a slight pleading quality to her voice now.

Megga huffed, muttering something about 'not feeding strays' before she left.

Margaery continued to pet and coo at the wolf, impressed and surprised at how docile the beast was considering it was clearly wild.

"Take care she does not have _you_ for desert." Megga advised warily when she returned, putting the plate down on the bench whilst eying the wolf warily.

"Thank you, Cousin. Mayhaps you will have better luck finding me on the upper balcony? By complete happenstance, I do believe that that is where Mark Mullendore was last seen." Margaery winked cheekily. Megga flushed slightly but laughed, smiling at her cousin before leaving.

"There we are. Alone again." Margaery announced happily, holding out the plate in invitation to her new friend. The wolf sniffed at the selection of meats hungrily but waited until Margaery had placed the plate next to her on the bench again before taking her first, measured bite. Margaery let out an uncontrollable laugh of delight. “Look how daintily you feast! Like a proper Lady.”

The wolf continued to feast happily, furry tail swinging from side-to-side in glee at her easy and delicious meal.

“Well, My Lady, I must thank you for the distraction that you have afforded me this evening. My family is so eager for me to stand there prettily for the rest of the night in search of a _husband_ that they do not comprehend that it is not what I want.” Margaery vented softly, eyes getting glazed as she went away in her own mind for a moment.

Her sight was suddenly full of the wolf as she stood with her front legs on the bench on either side of Margaery and leant her head onto her shoulder, giving her a hug.

Margaery giggled happily, pleased by the gesture and stroked her thick fur whilst enjoying the warm embrace.

When Lady broke away, she licked Margaery’s face with a dry, meaty tongue before she padded over to the nearby pond and began to lap water from it thirstily. Margaery followed her, kneeling carefully next to her, cautious of keeping her dress away from the wet dirt.

“You know, my grandfather, Luthor, used to tell me a fable of a princess that kissed a frog from this very pond, turning him into a handsome prince and they lived happily ever after.” Margaery smiled, thinking fondly of her grandfather whom had passed some years ago. “What say you, My Lady? If I kiss a wolf instead of a frog, what are my chances that you might turn into a beautiful princess instead?” Margaery laughed, leaning in absently whilst closing her eyes to kiss the wolf on her now wet snout, her whiskers making Margaery giggle at the tickling sensation. Margaery continued to chuckle until the fur shrunk suddenly beneath her fingers leaving only soft, smooth skin in its wake, the head she was holding changing, getting smaller and shifting its shape.

Margaery opened her eyes slowly, even more scared than she had been upon seeing the wolf for the first time. The first thing that she noted was, instead of the golden yellow eyes of the wolf looking directly into her own, it was a pair of deep blue eyes that met her gaze. Instead of fur there was skin. Instead of a silvery grey there was auburn red. Instead of a wolf there was a girl, a girl whose face she still cradled.

“Thank you.” Lady spoke softly, voice a beautiful melody, jaw moving in Margaery’s hands, causing the brunette to leap back in alarm from the nude, mud-smeared girl before falling dramatically into the pond.

“What?! How did you…where…where is Lady?!” Margaery asked blindly whilst sputtering out water, hair now wet and stuck to her forehead, covering her eyes.

“She is me.” The girl answered, offering her a hand to pull her from the pond. “I am her.” She clarified, hefting Margaery out of the water with little assistance, the other girl still in shock.

“I do not…I do not underst-” Margaery attempted again, expression still lost, trying desperately not to stare at the girls naked form.

“Fables are stories that are grounded in truth, Your Highness.” The girl smiled easily, as if _that_ were the only explanation required.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep...The Princess and the Direwolf!
> 
> I purposefully left it ambiguous as to whether Sansa is a human that got turned into a wolf or whether she is just a wolf that got turned into a human. I did start to write it one way but then I thought that this would be more fun.
> 
> *WC68*


	28. Star-Crossed Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 26. star-crossed lovers
> 
> Sansa/Margaery [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-Da!
> 
> *WC68*

Ever since the Seven Kingdoms were united under the Targaryens, there had been a boiling animosity between the Starks and the Tyrells. When the Tyrells had first ascended to power by surrendering The Reach to Aegon Targaryen, in a move to solidify their rise, the new future Lord of Highgarden was promised the hand of a Stark woman. As it was over three hundred years ago, no one knows exactly what happened next but for reasons unknown the betrothal was broken. Those from The North say that the future Lord Tyrell had preferred the company of other men whilst those from The Reach propagated that the bride was found abed with her own brother.

Centuries later and there was barely a tourney or a gathering that did not include Northmen and Highgardeners drawing arms against each other. King Robert Baratheon had declared that he would stand this discord in his realm for no longer, bringing a retinue of Tyrells North to Winterfell to make a grudging peace with the Starks.

Her Father and the King greeted each other heartily as old friends, as enthusiastically as Sansa would have expected based on all of the stories that she and her siblings had heard about him whilst growing up, even if the image of the King himself was not as she had expected.

The King's family had been greeted by her own and after them came the brunette family wearing greens and golds, roses embroidered into their fine clothing; Sansa took them to be the Tyrells.

The moment was tense, no one in the yard making a sound; even the horses and the dogs quietened as Lord Mace Tyrell stood opposite her father, neither man willing to step forward to shake hands.

The silence was nearing an oppressive level, the men sworn to each house standing poised and taut like a bow, ready to be released at a moment’s notice and Sansa had a genuine fear that swords could be drawn at any moment. Sansa looked across the invisible line separating North and South at the only Tyrell daughter, Margaery, whom looked equally concerned before her head turned and her amber eyes met Sansa's stare. It was a peculiar feeling but Sansa knew instantly that the older girl was thinking the exact same thought as she in the split second before Sansa stepped forward and offered her hand to the Southerner.

"Hello. I am Sansa Stark. Welcome to Winterfell Lady Margaery." Sansa smiled welcomingly.

Lady Margaery smiled wide in return, accepting her hand and shaking it softly. "Tis a pleasure to meet you Lady Sansa. Thank you for welcoming myself and my family into your home."

At their display, her father appeared humbled, looking at her proudly before he stepped forward and shook Lord Tyrell's hand, giving a few stiff but welcoming words. The rest of her family followed their example while Sansa merely shared a pleased, secret smile with the Lady Margaery.

A week later and the betrothal of Lord Robb and Lady Margaery was announced.

*~*~*

It was roughly a moons turn into the visit of the Tyrells and the Royal family to Winterfell. A tenuous truce had been struck through the betrothal of her brother to the youngest Tyrell but such longstanding animosity was not easily forgotten and it often felt like the weakest spark could cause a howling inferno.

It was for this reason that Sansa was so conflicted, even as her eyes closed in pleasure at Margaery's fabulous mouth working over her neck, careful not to use too much teeth lest it leave a mark for all to see.

"Are you truly not conflicted in the least? Or worried of the risks we take?" Sansa asked shakily, hand gripping the other girl's hip firmly when her tongue lathered over a patch of particularly sensitive skin.

"No. Would you like to know why, My Lady?" Margaery asked teasingly, gently nibbling on the Northerner’s chin. "The Faith does not recognise two women together as possible, let alone something that happens. As far as they are concerned we physically _cannot_ lay together so how can I be unfaithful to my betrothed when it is with a woman?" Margaery questioned smugly.

"Your betrothed is my brother." Sansa reiterated guiltily, beginning to pull back from her lover.

Margaery moved to lie on top of Sansa quickly, pinning her to the bed, not allowing her an escape. "Come, Sansa. You know that Robb has no love for me. His head is too full of that She-Bear."

"He would never act on it." Sansa defended automatically.

"He _does_ act on it." Margaery argued with no anger. "And why should he not? A moons turn ago and we were strangers to each other and now we are expected to deny ourselves our heart’s desires?" Margaery questioned, trailing a fingernail down the side of Sansa's face gently, significantly, making the younger girl shiver. "No one shall know. It is not as though there is a chance of getting a babe on each other by doing what we do or if we were to go...further." Margaery whispered, hand trailing up the outside of Sansa's thigh beneath her skirts. "I could give you such pleasure, Sansa." Margaery purred hotly into her ear.

Sansa could not imagine experiencing _more_ pleasure than she had thus far but Margaery sounded so confident that it gave Sansa pause and, judging from Margaery's wicked smirk, the older girl realised it, which is why Sansa did not resist when Margaery began to slowly draw her under garments down her legs.

"We could start a war if we were discovered!" Sansa tried to reason with the last of her will power as Margaery travelled down her body and threw her undergarments carelessly to the side.

"Then you had best keep quiet, My Sweet One." Margaery smirked before leaning in slowly and kissing the apex of Sansa thighs, making the redhead release a keening moan as her fingers curled harshly in the furs on her bed.

Neither girl could know or comprehend the irony of the situation that they found themselves in. They could not have known that three hundred some odd years ago, in the room just across from Sansa's own, another Stark girl had been discovered abed with her Tyrell husband-to-be's sister, causing the betrothal to be broken and beginning the animosity between the two families ruling opposite sides of the kingdom. However, it was also said relationship that had begun the building of bridges and forging of bonds sparked by their first meeting and continued friendship.

Mayhaps, what a Stark-Tyrell relationship could break, could be mended by the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Folks, that is all she wrote...literally. I'm very tired now! But the last 28 days have been amazing so thanks for joining me on the ride!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read, gave Kudos and commented; it means a lot! In particular, **Jamiemoriarty** , **sikodelika** , **scout4it** , **MTL17** and **WinterfellStark** gave a lot of comments throughout the month of feedback, praise and random chatter that I appreciated immensely so a special thanks to them!
> 
> Diolch!
> 
> *WC68*

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: welshcakes68


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